On Wings of Steel
by SpoonyLupin
Summary: Before he was Robin, he was Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne. Dick is growing suspicious of Bruce, but little does he know that Bruce is leading a double life. When Batman is caught up in a game of wits with the Riddler, it results in Dick becoming even more wrapped up in his guardian's secret life than Bruce ever wanted. [Prequel to the 1966 TV series.]
1. Chapter 1: Birds of a Feather

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and William Dozier, and various publishers including, but not limited to, DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment, Time Warner, ABC, 20****th**** Century Fox, and Greenway Productions. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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**_This story is dedicated in loving memory to the bestest kitty in the world  
_****_My Mr. Chips  
The king of my heart  
April 11, 1999 ~ July 31, 2014  
I'll love you and miss you forever, you goofball_**

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**On Wings of Steel  
**Chapter 1 – Birds of a Feather

_As the school day ends, Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, returns home to stately Wayne manor…_

When he entered the foyer, a tingle of excitement ran up Dick's spine as he spotted both his and Bruce's duffle bags sitting next to the hall table. Immediately dropping his backpack next to them, Dick wasted no time in bounding up the stairs to his bedroom.

He quickly changed out of his school clothes, pulling on a pair of blue jeans and his hiking boots. He tugged his favorite red sweatshirt on over his head before grabbing his fall jacket and hurrying back downstairs.

As soon as he stepped off the last riser and into the front hall, Dick smiled to see Bruce emerging from the kitchen. Bruce had a small basket in one hand, which he held up for Dick to see.

"Aunt Harriett made us some sandwiches for the road," Bruce explained. "You're ready already?" he asked, eyeing Dick's change in wardrobe.

"Are you kidding?" Dick asked in excitement. "I've been ready ever since you brought the idea up last month." He bent over, checking his backpack to make sure he had everything he needed in the unlikely case he decided to do some homework.

"I thought you weren't bringing your homework," Bruce observed.

Straightening up, Dick shrugged. "I may get bored, who knows? Besides, you can help me with those overly-complicated algebra problems we're always getting assigned."

"There's nothing complicated about it, Dick," Bruce replied, picking his duffle bag up off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. "All it takes is some studying, and then you'll have this moment when the light bulb goes on and everything suddenly becomes clear. You're getting there – it's called an epiphany."

"Right," Dick sighed. "Of course, Bruce." He silently wondered just how long it would take him before he reached this great plane of understanding that Bruce was talking about.

"It'll come," Bruce insisted, laying a gentle hand on Dick's shoulder.

Dick nodded and smiled, but in truth, that didn't matter to him right then. All that mattered was that he and Bruce were going to spend the entire glorious weekend at the lake, doing nothing but fishing and bird watching. Dick had been hoping for a trip like this with Bruce for quite some time, and he couldn't believe it was actually finally happening. He felt like he and Bruce were really hitting a stride in their relationship, and Dick thought that this might help to bring them even closer together.

Bruce never hesitated to sit down with Dick and help him with his homework or just talk. Truth be told, Dick loved him for it. Ever since he'd lost his parents, Dick had wondered if he'd have this sort of close relationship with an adult ever again. The only other relative Dick had was his Aunt Harriet, and he loved her, but Dick often longed for the relationship he'd had with his father. In many ways, his father had been his best friend. Dick had been a daddy's boy for as long as he could remember, and once that was gone, Dick had been left trying to get used to life with no father figure to turn to.

And then Bruce had entered his life. Not only had Bruce given him (and his Aunt Harriet) a place to live, but he was quickly becoming Dick's best friend. Dick was beginning to look at Bruce as fulfilling that father role that had been missing from his life for so long.

There was only one problem. More often than not, whenever Bruce tried to make plans with Dick, something would happen to spoil them. Bruce was a millionaire, of course, and this brought a lot of responsibilities that he had to take care of. 'Business before pleasure,' as Bruce would often tell him. Dick understood that, and he tried to be as accommodating as possible whenever something came up, and Bruce had to run off. But it hurt.

So many times, Bruce had been ready to take him fishing, or bird watching, or simply to play a game of chess with him. And then Alfred would remind Bruce of some previous engagement he had agreed to, and it would all be over. Dick would be left sitting and waiting around the manor for Bruce to return, watching the hours tick by. More often than not, it would be approaching the wee hours of the morning before Bruce came home, and by then, Dick was almost always asleep.

Dick tried not to be bitter about it, but it was difficult. His father had never bailed out on him the way Bruce did. That, however, really wasn't fair. His father and Bruce were two completely different people, and his father didn't have even a fraction of the same responsibilities. Bruce had a lot to juggle, and he really did do the best he could. But Dick was beginning to feel left out.

This weekend was exactly what they needed. Just the two of them at the lake, and absolutely no phones or butlers to interrupt them. Dick had been hoping for some alone time with Bruce forever, and it was actually happening. If only they could make it out the door before any such thing happened this time, but it was not meant to be.

Just as Dick hoisted his duffle bag from the floor and flung it over his shoulder, there was that awful beeping sound coming from Bruce's study. Dick still wasn't entirely sure what it was, and he wasn't permitted in Bruce's study to investigate it either. Any time Dick tried to question Bruce about it, Bruce quickly brushed him off with some silly and far-fetched explanation, none of which Dick believed. As of late, Bruce kept insisting it was a new-fangled alarm system of some sort for the house that was still being hooked up and had some kinks to work out. This explanation had been going on for several months, and Dick still never saw nor heard anything else about it, other than it didn't entirely work yet. Dick wondered how long it would be until Bruce abandoned that story and came up with another one.

Not that it mattered though. All Dick really knew was that when he heard that dreaded sound, it often came before another one of Bruce's quick and half-explained departures. Yet another reason to believe that it had to be a phone of some sort, one that wasn't connected to the rest of the house. Perhaps some sort of communication device that only millionaires had. But that was silly. Wasn't it?

As if on cue, the door to Bruce's studied opened and Alfred appeared. In a few steps, he had crossed the hall to Bruce, hurriedly whispering something in his employer's ear.

This was it. Bruce was about to once again bail on their plans and disappear to do…whatever it was he did whenever he left the house. Go to some sort of millionaires' meeting or go and count his money at the bank.

Dick was aware of just how bitter and rude his thoughts were. He didn't want to think these obnoxious things about Bruce, the man who was quickly becoming his father and his best friend, but Dick really had little idea of Bruce's life outside the home. Bruce rarely shared that part of his life with anyone, leaving Dick to fantasize about just what did take up so much of his guardian's time.

"Ah, yes, Alfred," Bruce replied, his eyes darting quickly to Dick. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, Dick, there's something I need to look after before we leave."

Dick didn't say anything. He simply watched Bruce's retreating back until he disappeared into his study. Dick clenched his teeth and frowned deeply, knowing that their weekend adventure was going to be on hold now. He didn't know why Bruce tried to get his hopes up by acting like this matter would be resolved in a minute or two. More often than not, these things required Bruce's full attention for the foreseeable future.

"Don't worry, Master Dick," Alfred said reassuringly. "I'm sure the two of you will be on your way shortly."

"Thanks, Alfred," Dick said, "but I know that's not the case." He dropped his duffle bag back down to the floor with a _plop_. "He's probably going to have to go to one of his oh-so-important meetings that absolutely can't wait to talk about millionaire things."

There it was again – that rude and judgmental attitude that Dick really didn't mean to display but couldn't help from coming out just the same. He just hoped he wouldn't say anything quite as impolite to Bruce when the time came. Dick was angry, yes, but he didn't want to hurt Bruce's feelings either. When Dick thought about everything Bruce had provided him with in just the last year or so, it made Dick feel spoiled and selfish to act like it wasn't enough. It was _more_ than enough, more than Dick thought he'd ever have again, but at the same time…he still wished for more. For more time and attention from Bruce.

Dick wondered if he would ever have that. But did he even have a right to want for something like that? Shouldn't he be happy with what he had? Happy that he had a wonderful place to live where he didn't have to ask twice for anything. Except for that coveted alone time with Bruce. All the money and possessions in the world couldn't make up for that deficiency which was becoming very apparent in their relationship.

When Bruce emerged from his study a moment later, Dick knew that his worst fears were about to be confirmed. Bruce's face was long and drawn, and Dick couldn't miss the distinct disappointment and hesitation that was hovering in his eyes. At least Bruce wasn't happy about breaking their plans. At least he seemed as upset about it as Dick was. That was something, wasn't it – that Bruce didn't get some sort of sick thrill from breaking Dick's heart?

"Dick…" Bruce began hesitantly.

"I know," Dick sighed. "Something came up. It's fine. Go."

"Dick…" Bruce tried again, but Dick wasn't having it.

"I said it's fine," Dick repeated. "I know you have responsibilities you need to attend to. Go."

"It isn't fine," Bruce replied adamantly. "I made you a promise about this weekend and I'm very sorry." Gesturing back towards the door of his study, he continued, "I didn't foresee this…particular problem arising right now, but it really requires my immediate attention. It can't be avoided."

"Right," Dick said coldly. "I have algebra to attend to myself, so it works out." Bending down to pick up his backpack from the floor, Dick could feel his cheeks burning red. He really wasn't thrilled with the way he was speaking to Bruce, and he wanted to get out of that foyer as quickly as possible. He was worried that the longer he stayed there, that the more ridiculous stories Bruce tried to feed him, that he might say something he would really regret.

"Dick…" Bruce called, but Dick didn't stop.

Hurrying up the stairs, Dick paused just as soon as he rounded the corner on the second floor and was out of sight. Dick had meant to storm all the way down the hall to his room and slam the door in anger, but something stopped him short.

"Why does this always happen, Alfred?" Bruce's voice drifted up the stairs to him. "I hate letting him down like this, but…I have a responsibility to the citizens of Gotham City too. Unfortunately, there isn't enough time in the day for both. One of them has to give, and I hate leaving him thinking that there's something else that's more important than he is."

Clenching the strap of his backpack tightly, Dick could feel a stinging sensation erupting in his eyes. Was Bruce really implying what Dick thought he was? That Dick, of all things, could be the most important thing in the world?

"Not more important," Alfred told Bruce, "just…more critical. Young Master Dick's life isn't on the line if you cancel your plans with him, but someone else's may be if you don't answer this call."

Dick was a bit too caught up in his own thoughts to really register anything else Bruce and Alfred were saying. Dick's entire world was quickly coming to revolve around Bruce. Could it be that Bruce felt the exact same way about him? Then why didn't he act like it half the time? Why didn't he put Dick first instead of these silly stories he came up with?

"Don't let him eat alone tonight," Bruce said then, breaking Dick out of his thoughts. "I know he'll probably be too angry to even want to come out of his room for dinner, but I'd hate that for him when he looking forward to this weekend so much. Make something nice for him and Aunt Harriet, would you, Alfred? Maybe that will cheer him up."

"Of course, sir."

A moment later, Dick heard the unmistakable sound of Bruce disappearing into this study and the door closing behind him once again. It was then that something hit Dick. It was something that he'd been aware of for quite some time, but he had never really consciously thought about it before. He had always been too consumed with disappointment to give it much thought at all.

Whenever Bruce disappeared into his study after such an exchange…he never reappeared. At least not until hours later. Where did Bruce go? Bruce obviously left the manor, but…how? The study wasn't connected to the garage, but there had to be a way outside. Then again…Dick never saw Bruce departing in his car or the limousine on these occasions either. Just where was Bruce disappearing to and what was he doing when these emergencies arose?

Again, Dick had been aware for quite some time that some fancy footwork was going on, but he had never really paused to think about it in depth. Doing so made his head hurt, but for the first time, Dick began to think about possibly breaking the rules a bit.

He had never even remotely considered doing so before. After all, he respected Bruce, and if Bruce had told him not to do something, then Dick would obey. But Bruce had canceled on him. Again. Didn't that give Dick somewhat of a reason to possibly snoop into what it was his guardian was doing all the time? It really wasn't any of his business. Dick knew that, and he didn't want to betray Bruce's trust, but he was hurt. He didn't know how much longer he could continue to do this – continue to let Bruce off the hook time and time again. Dick was quickly getting sick of it, and he was sick of being kept in the dark about it all too.

Dick hurried down the hall to his room. He placed his backpack on his bed before unzipping it and pulling out his algebra book and notebook. He really had no intention of working on it just then, but he found himself going through the motions for some inexplicable reason anyway. Setting his books down on his desk, he stopped and stared out the window that looked out over the right side of the manor. From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the garage door and driveway, and he could see if anyone was coming or going.

Dick did this often – stared out his window while he was working on his homework to see if Bruce was coming home. That, however, didn't always work, because as he'd already figured out, Bruce obviously had another way of leaving the mansion, one that didn't involve taking his car or having Alfred drive him in the limousine. But just this one time, Dick stood and stared down at the garage door, waiting for it to open to indicate Bruce's departure.

Dick wasn't even sure of how long he was standing there, waiting and watching for something to happen. Perhaps a half an hour or even longer. But the door to the garage remained closed and unmoving. Dick was silently wishing for it to move, but still, it stayed down, almost like an impenetrable wall. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dick knew that if he saw Bruce leave the traditional way, then he would have nothing to investigate. At least not now. That he wouldn't have a reason to disobey his guardian, to break the trust that was becoming so important between him and Bruce.

But still, Dick knew Bruce wasn't being completely honest with him. There were just far too many questions, way too many things that didn't add up. Bruce was hiding something, and the more Dick thought about it, the angrier he became. What good was trust and honesty between the two of them if it didn't go both ways? If Bruce was constantly lying to Dick about what he was doing? Why he had to keep canceling on him? It wasn't fair, not when Dick felt like he was obligated to be as upfront with Bruce as possible.

Then again, Dick supposed that Bruce really didn't owe him anything, did he? Bruce was an adult. He was more than capable of taking care of himself and if he had some secret he was hiding, well that really wasn't anyone's business, was it? Dick, on the other hand, was a child, and as his guardian, Bruce was entitled to the truth from him.

But it still bothered Dick tremendously. He had shared so much with Bruce already, had basically opened up his heart and soul to this new father figure that had walked into his life. Yet, Dick knew that Bruce wasn't doing the same. That he didn't have the same kind of openness with Dick. Didn't Bruce know that he could tell Dick anything? Dick didn't really care what it was his guardian was up to; he simply wanted the truth.

The longer he stood there though, the more minutes ticked by, the more Dick felt compelled to go downstairs and start snooping around. Even though that really wasn't fair to Bruce, Dick felt like he didn't have a choice anymore. If Dick was going to continue to put his trust in Bruce, then he needed to know. He had to know. If Bruce wasn't going to tell him, then Dick was going to find out on his own, even if it did hurt Bruce in the process. Besides, Bruce kept hurting Dick over and over again. It was only fair, wasn't it?

Dick, however, grimaced at this thought. There he was again, acting like a stupid, spoiled child that wasn't getting everything he wanted. God knew that Bruce was giving him more than Dick could ever ask for…except for the truth. Except for that completely open and transparent part of himself that Dick had already given him.

Dick finally picked up his algebra book and notebook from his desk, wrapping his arms around them and holding them closely to his chest. No, he was going to do this. He was going to find out what it was Bruce was hiding from him, consequences be dammed. It was probably the most reckless thing Dick had ever done in his young life, and he supposed that was saying something. He always did what he was told, he had always been a good boy, back when his parents had still been alive and now for Bruce. He really didn't want to chance ruining his relationship with Bruce irreparably, but one had to take chances sometimes, didn't they?

Slowly walking to his bedroom door, Dick pulled it open, glancing up and down and hallway. He swallowed hard before he let himself out, the soles of his boots whispering over the thick, velveteen carpet. Almost as quickly, however, Dick realized how silly he was being. This was his home after all. He was more than welcome to leave his room, to walk about and explore the other rooms if he so wished. The only room he wasn't allowed in, of course, was Bruce's study, and he wasn't anywhere near that. At least, not yet. Why then, did Dick feel like a criminal? Like he was already breaking some sort of rule?

It was because of what he was thinking about doing. About going down there, about opening the door to Bruce's study, and sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. About doing the unthinkable in breaking Bruce's trust. Still, Dick wasn't immediately doing anything wrong. Not now, and he didn't deserve to act like he was.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Dick continued on down the hall, picking up his pace as he went. If Alfred or Aunt Harriet saw him, he'd just say that he was going downstairs to do his homework in the living room. That was perfectly all right. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He wasn't.

In the end, neither his aunt nor the butler stopped him. Dick made it all the way downstairs and into the foyer without running into either one of them. That, however, was when things got a bit tricky. Dick was drawing closer and closer to Bruce's study, to the moment of truth, to the point of no return. Once he broke Bruce's trust in this manner, he knew there was no turning back. Even if he didn't turn anything up in his search, Dick knew that things would be different between him and Bruce from then on. Dick thought he'd always feel like a liar, a cheat. Like he wouldn't be able to look Bruce in the eye anymore after he had gone behind his back like this.

Still, Dick pressed on, stepping closer and closer to the door. He reached his hand out for the doorknob, pausing when his skin came into contact with the cold brass. What if Alfred was inside? After all, it seemed like Alfred's favorite place to dust and clean, and he had been in there just this afternoon when that call came in, tidying the place up. Would Alfred tell Bruce that Dick had disobeyed him? Had gone where he didn't belong?

Then again, Dick decided he was still being silly. He would just pretend that he was looking for Alfred to ask if he could have a snack. There wasn't anything wrong with just peeking his head around the study door to see if Alfred was in there, was there?

Gripping the doorknob so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white, Dick slowly turned it. When the door squeaked open, he stopped, waiting for any sound from within. When he heard nothing, Dick pushed the door open a bit more, sticking his head in. Holding his breath, Dick glanced about the room, looking for any sign of movement, but it was empty.

Releasing his breath, Dick quickly pushed the door open the rest of the way before he hurried inside. As quietly and carefully as he could, he closed the door behind him, flinching slightly when the bolt clicked loudly. His heart now thumping wildly in his chest, Dick stood frozen to his spot, waiting for any sign that someone had heard him.

Nearly a minute later, Dick finally unglued himself, leaning back against the door. He took a deep breath and let it out, staring up at the ceiling in relief and trying to will his pounding heart to slow. When his heartbeat finally began to return to normal, Dick let his eyes return to the room proper.

That was when he saw it. It was so glaringly obvious, it was no wonder no one was allowed in this room (except for Alfred). Right on the edge of Bruce's desk, next to the regular telephone was another. Only this one was bright red, and it had no numbers or dial on it – just one big button in the middle of where the dial should have been.

It was then that Dick realized Alfred must be in on the secret, whatever it was. If Alfred was in here dusting all the time, he obviously had seen this strange phone more than enough times. Then Dick felt slightly stupid. Of course Alfred knew! It was always after Alfred whispered something into Bruce's ear that Bruce spontaneously took off all the time. Whatever it was, both Alfred and Bruce were in on it together.

Frowning, Dick approached the desk, eyeing this mysterious phone almost like it was some sort of strange and exotic wild animal. Almost like it might lash out and bite him at any moment. Dick had the sudden and ridiculous urge to pick the phone up and press the button, dying to know what it would do or whom he might reach. But no, that would be stupid. Dick had absolutely no idea who might be on the other end, and he didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize his little search. Bruce wasn't home, after all. What if this was some sort of contraption that only Bruce himself could use? Dick wasn't about to do anything that might give away the fact that he was doing something he shouldn't.

Carefully setting his books down on the desk next to the bright red phone, Dick turned to take in the rest of the room. Nothing else seemed suspicious or out of the ordinary, but he knew that appearances could be deceiving. There had to be something. There _had_ to be. Bruce couldn't just come in here and…_disappear_. It was something out of a mystery or spy novel, but perhaps there was some sort of secret passageway somewhere. That wasn't so hard to believe, was it? Not with this bright red, strange device staring him in the face.

Dick tiptoed across the carpet, still afraid that he would alert someone to his presence. When he got to the wall of bookshelves to the right of the desk, he put his hands up against the books, feeling for anything that didn't seem right. He wasn't even entirely sure what he was looking for, just something that shouldn't be there, something that was out of place. He almost felt like a spy in one his detective stories, searching for secret passages and clues in the most unlikely of places. He began pulling random books out of the shelves, seeing if it would trigger anything. A tiny part of him almost expected some hidden doorway to swing open or something, but of course, the rest of the study remained motionless.

After a while, Dick began to feel absolutely silly. Nothing was happening, and with every single book he pulled out of its slot, the more he was beginning to doubt that anything would. Was he completely crazy? Maybe Bruce really wasn't hiding anything strange or extraordinary behind the bookcases. Maybe Dick's imagination was just running away with him. He still had no doubt that Bruce was up to something, but perhaps it really wasn't as absurd as Dick was imagining it was. Besides, things like secret passages didn't exist in real life, did they? Only in fiction novels.

But then, what was the bright red phone all about? That certainly wasn't something that normal people had in their homes. Dick spun on his heel, turning back towards the desk with the glaringly red object on top of it. If only Dick could pick up the receiver and press the button – find out who was on the other end. It just might hold the answer to everything, but he couldn't do that. He just couldn't. He'd already gone through the reasons why. If the study wasn't any of his business, then playing around with Bruce's private things certainly wasn't either.

As if on cue, the phone began to beep and pulse with red light. Dick's heart nearly burst out of his chest and he thought he must have jumped a foot in the air. Did someone know he was there? Was it Bruce, calling him to find out why he was poking his nose in where it didn't belong? But how could that be? Dick was just being silly, wasn't he? His thoughts were only running wild because he was doing something he shouldn't. That was all.

A moment later, Dick heard footsteps outside the study door. Up until then, Dick had been too startled to really take in what was happening, but the sound of someone approaching spurred him into action. That must be Alfred coming to answer the phone. After all, it was almost always Alfred that disappeared into the study to silence the odd beeping sound whenever it started.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darting around the room, desperately searching for a hiding spot. The loud beeping of the phone was ringing in his ears, distracting him and making him even more nervous than he already was. Where could he go? Behind one of the armchairs? But no. Surely Alfred would spot him there in a second. Behind the desk? All Alfred had to do was walk around it before he figured out that Dick was exactly wasn't where he was supposed to be. If only Dick had found one of the secret passages or compartments that he had been sure this room was hiding, but he hadn't. There was nowhere to go.

"Holy mousetrap," Dick whispered, suddenly not so sure if he had made the right decision in snooping around after all. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and stinging his skin. He swallowed hard, almost wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

What would Alfred say when he found Dick there? Dick supposed he could ask Alfred to cover for him, but that would be unfair of him. He couldn't expect the butler to lie to his own employer, especially about something so important. What would Bruce do when he found out? Dick had this ridiculous image of Bruce disowning him and kicking him out of the house, but it was just that – ridiculous. Wasn't it? Surely Bruce wouldn't do that, but Dick wasn't so sure. After all, he had never done anything to abuse Bruce's trust like this before, and he had never seen Bruce really get angry at him. Would this be too much? Would he break the trust that had taken so long for him and Bruce to build? What would happen to him? What would happen to Aunt Harriet?

Had Dick just lost everything he was so lucky to have? Everything Bruce had given him out of the kindness of his heart? That was exactly what Bruce had given him – everything – and Dick had now thrown it in his face. Bruce had always told him that greed and selfishness were at the root of all evil, but it wasn't until right this minute that Dick realized just how right Bruce had been. Why hadn't he listened?

"I'm sorry, Bruce," was all that Dick could think of to say, whispering it to the otherwise empty room. There was no one there to hear him, and Dick didn't think that it would do him much good anyway. It was too late for a lot of things.

_Too late indeed!  
__Can Dick find a way out?  
__Will Bruce ever forgive him?  
__What will become of our burgeoning Dynamic Duo?  
__Will they end before they even begin?_

_Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_For the sake of Bruce's youthful ward,  
__keep your fingers crossed until then!_


	2. Chapter 2: Nether

_When we last left young Dick Grayson, he was seemingly trapped in his guardian's study with nowhere to go. With Alfred quickly approaching on the other side of the door, is there any way out for Bruce Wayne's young ward? The answer shall soon be yours!_

**On Wings of Steel  
**Chapter 2 – Nether

When Dick heard the doorknob rattle, that got him moving. It was like someone had lit a fire underneath him all of a sudden. Dick's eyes locked on the only thing big enough in the room to possibly hide him – the desk.

Almost without even stopping to think about it, Dick bolted around the desk. He latched on to the back of the large leather chair behind it, trying desperately to steady himself. The chair itself scooted several feet out from the desk, revealing the cubbyhole underneath, the place where a person would put their legs. The front panel of the desk came all the way down to the floor, so it provided the perfect hiding place! Dick didn't know why he didn't think of it sooner.

He immediately dropped down to his hands and knees, beginning to scurry underneath the desk. It was then, however, that he remembered he had left his algebra homework sitting on top of the desk. Cursing quietly under his breath, Dick hurriedly climbed to his feet, retrieved his algebra book, and then wasted no time in dashing back to his hiding place. He curled up unto a ball, pressing himself as tightly into the underside of the desk as he could. Closing his eyes tightly, he hugged his books against his chest almost as if they were a shield and might provide some sort of protection in case he was found out.

Just then, the study door opened, Alfred's patent-leather shoes whispering quietly against the carpet. A few seconds later, Dick heard Alfred picking up the receiver of the still beeping phone. Dick's heart had been pounding so furiously, his blood pumping so loudly in his ears, he had almost forgotten that the phone had even been making a sound at all.

"I'm sorry, Commissioner," Alfred said quietly, "but he has not yet returned."

Dick frowned deeply. Was he talking to the police commissioner? What in the world would the commissioner be doing calling Bruce? Moreover, what on earth would Bruce be doing with what appeared to be a direct line straight to the commissioner's office?

"Of course, sir," Alfred said. "Give me a moment."

Alfred replaced the receiver in its cradle before coming around to the other side of the desk. Dick's heartbeat once again sped up. He was certain that Alfred knew he was there. The butler was going to peek under the desk and tell him to come out, because he was caught. It was all over.

That, however, didn't happen. Alfred didn't seem the least bit interested in the desk or the frightened little boy that was quivering underneath it. From his hiding spot, Dick could just see Alfred's legs retreating to the far side of the study. At first, Dick thought he was going to search the shelves for a book, but no. Alfred reached for a particular book in white leather that looked a bit out of place with all the other black and brown leather-bound books. Alfred pulled the top of the book slightly back from the rest of the books before replacing it. At first, nothing happened, but then a deep, wooden sliding sound permeated the room.

Dick knew it! Alfred was opening a secret passage of some sort! Now that Dick looked at it, why didn't he notice that bright white book at first glance? It seemed so obvious now, as if it was just waiting for someone to reach out for it.

The bookcase itself began moving, sliding sideways and out of sight. It was then, however, that Dick realized it wasn't a secret passage at all like he had been expecting. Behind the bookcase was another set of sliding doors to what appeared to be a service elevator. Alfred pressed a small red button in a panel just to the right of these doors and waited. A moment later, the doors slid open and Alfred disappeared inside, apparently taking the elevator to another floor.

Dick sat there for a while longer, allowing his heart rate to return to normal and mulling over the things that had happened. So there was a secret elevator hidden behind the wall. Not exactly the earth-shattering secret Dick had been hoping to uncover, but interesting nonetheless. Why go to the effort of camouflaging a simple elevator? With a house the size of Wayne manor, it wasn't completely unexpected for there to be an elevator for the staff to use. The question was, where did it lead? It obviously had to be hiding something for it to be in such a secret location.

And then there was the little matter of the phone. Dick couldn't imagine what business Bruce could have with the commissioner that would warrant something like that. Bruce spoke to the commissioner sometimes about various social and fundraising events going on in the city as well as about Wayne Foundation activities, but the normal phone line worked just fine for that. Why would they need what seemed to be a special sort of hotline, just for the two of them to communicate? At least, Dick assumed it was just for the two of them.

Slowly, Dick reached his hand up, hooking his fingers over the top edge of the desk. He pulled himself up, still feeling nervous and shaky over what had gone on. He looked back over his shoulder and swallowed, checking to make sure that Alfred really was gone. Dick was dying to run over to the elevator and press that red button so he could find out where it went, but that wasn't currently an option. Alfred had just used it, and it wouldn't be prudent to summon it at the moment. The butler would be left wondering just who was using it if Bruce still wasn't home.

Dick looked back at that bright red phone, wanting nothing more than to pick it up, press that big button in the center, and ask whoever was on the other end just what in the hell was going on. Dick's mind felt like it was buzzing with all of the information it had just taken in, but he still wasn't any closer to finding out just what Bruce was up to.

Dick didn't know what to do. He felt stuck at the moment. His only avenue to explore was the elevator and to find out where it could possibly lead, but he'd have to wait until he was sure Alfred wasn't using it anymore. Dick didn't know what else he could possibly look into. Surely there wouldn't be any other secret passages in the study that he could explore. Perhaps, Dick thought, he should just return to the living room and relegate himself to a long night of very boring algebra homework. What else was there to do?

Then again, maybe he could wait there. Would Alfred be returning to the study after he finished whatever errand he had to run for the commissioner? Would he be calling the commissioner back to let him know that he had done so? Dick supposed he could stay hidden under the desk for a while longer to wait for Alfred. If he did indeed call the commissioner back, Dick could gain all sorts of information from another phone call.

Did he want to do this though? Did he really want to remain in his hiding place indefinitely, like some sort of spy? Dick still couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong. Like he was breaking all sorts of unspoken rules, and worst of all, that he was betraying Bruce's trust simply by being in there.

The truth was – and as silly as it sounded – Dick really wished Bruce was there. It really wouldn't do him much good at the moment, since Bruce was the one he was disobeying. Bruce, however, was the one that Dick always went to when he was feeling confused and didn't know where else to turn. But who could he go to now?

Dick wasn't sure that he could simply confront Bruce about what it was he was up to. As much as Dick wanted to know, Bruce was entitled to his privacy, and he didn't have to tell Dick anything. Dick imagined Bruce giving him that look – that stern one when Dick had done something he shouldn't – and just telling Dick to mind his own business. Surely Bruce wouldn't put it quite that rudely or bluntly, but he just might say something along those lines. Dick didn't think he could bear to be put in that position. He didn't like doing anything that would earn him Bruce's disapproval, so in a way, Bruce really was his moral compass. If Dick thought that Bruce would be upset in him in any way for something, then Dick simply wouldn't do it.

Except for sneaking into Bruce's study in the first place, of course. Sighing, Dick decided he should just go on out to the living room, work on his homework, and mind his own business once and for all. As curious as he was, he simply didn't like doing this – intruding on Bruce's private life. If it was something that Bruce wanted to share with him, then he would. Dick really wished Bruce would, and he felt left out that it wasn't something he was privy to, but…this wasn't right.

Once again hugging his books to his chest, Dick pushed the chair back under the desk where it belonged. He slowly walked around to the front of the desk, still not entirely certain that he was ready to give up his search. But he knew that that really was the best option. He didn't like this, and thinking about Bruce as his moral compass really hit that thought home for him.

If Bruce wanted to share this with him, Dick would be more than ready to listen. But Dick would no longer try and find out on his own. He wouldn't.

Coming around the corner of the desk, Dick's elbow gently bumped into the sculpted bust of Shakespeare that sat next to the bright red phone. Dick was expecting an explosion of pain to go shooting up his arm from the hard stone, but that didn't happen. In fact, the statue felt oddly light, like it wasn't made from stone at all, but perhaps a wood or plastic of some sort.

Dick stopped, tilting his head and eyeing the bust closely. Reaching out a hand, he brushed the tips of his fingers against the head, feeling to see if he could figure out just what kind of material it was made from. But then something else caught his interest. The head moved slightly, like it wasn't fully attached to the rest of the statue at all. Dick prodded at it again, more firmly this time, feeling it give way under his fingers. As soon as Dick let go, however, it returned to his previous position. Was it on a hinge of some sort? Did it maybe bend another way?

Bending down, Dick leaned in close to the bust, looking for any sign of the secrets it held. And then he saw it. A small strip of metal was affixed to the back of Shakespeare's neck, and that was exactly what it looked like – a hinge! Grabbing the skull of the statue tightly, Dick tipped it backwards. It went easily until Shakespeare was staring straight up at the ceiling like he'd just been beheaded.

It had revealed a small, round knob of some sort, which was seated right in the middle of Shakespeare's neck where his spine would have been. Just above this was a small yellow light, apparently to indicate when the knob was turned.

Dick's fingers tightened around the shoulders of the statue. His heart had begun to pound anew, but he stood frozen to his spot. This was what he had been looking for – the secret that he knew this study had to be hiding. But did he dare turn the knob? Did he dare go beyond the boundary of truly breaking Bruce's trust?

Plus, there was the little matter of Alfred. Dick had no idea where the butler was at the moment. What if any further snooping brought him face to face with Alfred? Would he be scolded? Would Alfred go to Bruce about what Dick had been doing? Again, the look of disappointment that would inevitably cross Bruce's face when he found out was almost too much for Dick to bear.

This was getting ridiculous, Dick decided. Either he was going to do this or he wasn't. Either go back out to the living room and do his homework, or…see where the rabbit hole led. Yes or no? Black or white? Which one was it going to be?

After nearly another minute of indecision, Dick finally just threw caution to the wind and turned the switch. He really wasn't sure what had come over him in that moment, what had possessed him to finally cross that line. Perhaps it was the frustration of Bruce's broken promises simply getting to him. If Dick stood there not knowing for a moment longer, he really felt like he was going to go crazy. Some insane compulsion seemed to grip him in that instant, and he'd done it.

Dick almost couldn't believe he had. It was unreal, like arriving home from school that afternoon and not being able to comprehend that he had Bruce were finally going to go on their long-awaited weekend away. Had that only been a few short hours ago? It now almost seemed like forever. So much had happened since then, and Dick felt like he had spent an eternity getting to this point. To be fair, time often seemed like that to him when Bruce wasn't around – waiting for his father figure, his best friend to return so that they could do something together.

Perhaps it was that thought that had finally spurred him on. Dick spent so very much time _waiting_. Waiting for Bruce to get home. Waiting for Bruce to keep his promises when they had plans together. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And Dick wasn't going to do it anymore.

Dick barely had time to feel ashamed for his thoughts and actions when he heard another wooden scraping sound emanating from behind him. His breath catching in his throat, Dick whirled around to see where it had come from.

Unable to believe his eyes, Dick saw yet another bookcase sliding open. He had to blink several times, trying to convince himself that he wasn't imagining things. Yet another secret exit hiding in this study? Dick wondered just how many there were, just how many things Bruce might be hiding from him.

Dick realized that a large, vertical pole of some sort had been revealed behind the bookcase, almost like one might see at a fire station. Drawing in a jagged breath, Dick slowly and carefully crossed the room, almost afraid that the pole might come to life and attack him, as crazy as that sounded. Dick knew that couldn't happen, but he was really getting into some complicated territory here. Not only was he in Bruce's private study where he had already been forbidden to go, but he was discovering things that he obviously wasn't supposed to know. This room was off limits for a reason.

Dick was breaking so very many rules, but he was in way too far now to turn back. He simply had to know where this secret passage led to. He'd never be able to forget it now, to pretend like he had never seen it. To act like everything was normal with Bruce when Dick didn't know if it would ever be again. He couldn't.

It was then that Dick noticed the writing on the wall behind the pole. He didn't know how he had missed it, because it was painted on the cement blocks in large black letters:

**_ACCESS TO BATCAVE VIA BATPOLE_**

Dick froze in his steps, not sure if he believed what he was seeing. Curling his hands into fists, he rubbed at his eyes harshly, as if he had just woken up from some strange dream. But when he looked up back up again, the writing on the wall was still there.

This was insane. He wasn't seeing this. He wasn't. It couldn't be real. Never in all time wondering what secrets Wayne manor held did he ever imagine that it was hiding the _Batcave_ all this time. That Dick had been sitting on this deeply buried secret for so long, and it had never even occurred to him. It had never even crossed his mind that this was what Bruce had been keeping from him.

A part of Dick, however, still wondered if it was all for Bruce. Who else would it be – Alfred or Aunt Harriet? Dick snickered at the thought of the butler and his elderly aunt running around in a Batsuit, but _Bruce_? Was that what Bruce had been doing all this time? Donning a cape and cowl and fighting crime? It sounded a bit far-fetched, even with the evidence as plain as day staring him in the face, but no one else was allowed in the study. It had to be Bruce, didn't it?

Dick crossed the remaining space to the opening, but when he got to the edge of the floor, he stopped. He looked down at where the pole led, into the depths of Wayne manor, but he couldn't see much of anything from his position. Just solid walls framing what looked to be a drop of at least twenty feet. Maybe more. It was much too dark at the bottom to make out anything clearly.

Was Dick really going to do this? Was he really going to slide down this pole with absolutely no idea where it led or what he was getting himself into? He was in way too far over his head now, but the thought still scared him. Was the Batcave really down there in the bowels of the mansion? If so, what other secrets did Bruce's study keep hidden?

Dick set his books down on the small end table just to the left of the opening the bookcase had left. All of a sudden, he didn't care that he was leaving his homework lying around or who might spot it. All he was worried about was finding out what was at the bottom of this shaft. He was still scared about what might be down there, but his curiosity was currently overriding that.

The pole leading downwards was painted a shimmery golden color, making it seem all the more enticing. Dick reached out both his hands, wrapping them tightly around the cool metal. He began breathing hard, his shoulders heaving with everything breath in and out. A part of him was terrified of what he might find, but excitement was also coursing through this body at finally uncovering the secret that Bruce had been hiding.

He lifted one foot up off the soft, beige carpet of the study. He paused for a very long time, almost too afraid to jump or move any further. Taking one last deep breath, he finally used his other foot like a springboard, pushing himself towards the pole. He gripped it even tighter, wrapping his legs around it and letting himself fall.

Dick closed his eyes on the way down. It was terrifying not knowing when or how he was going to land, but it was also exhilarating. He vaguely remembered a similar pole on a playground he had gone to long ago with his parents. It wasn't nearly as long as this one – only about five feet tall – but it had been his favorite thing to do on said playground. A sudden memory of his father waiting for him on the ground as he slid down the pole flashed in front of his eyes. How Dick had laughed, his father reaching out his arms for his son to make sure he didn't land too hard. His father's safe and unfailing arms.

All of a sudden, Dick landed, which pulled him out of his reverie. The landing wasn't at all rough like he had been expecting. Rather, something soft and welcoming had cushioned his fall. When Dick dared to look down, he saw that he had landed on a large piece of foam which enveloped the entire pole. At least that was a relief, he supposed. He had almost been expecting to land hard on a cement floor since this basically was a basement.

The next thing he noticed was a large box on the wall to his left with a blue light and a switch on it. The sign just above this box read:

**_COMPRESSED STEAM BATPOLE LIFT_**

Assuming that this was what would take him back upstairs, Dick decided to ignore it for the time being. After all, he had dug himself deep enough by pressing buttons that he didn't know the functions of.

When Dick looked up to take in the rest of the room, a soft gasp escaped his throat. The room that spread out before him wasn't at all what he had been expecting. Even with the writing on the walls, he was still almost envisioning a normal type of cellar, something with plain stone walls and perhaps cardboard boxes for storage or something similar. But no.

He wasn't even sure what he was seeing at first, but it certainly wasn't a run-of-the-mill basement at all. The walls seemed to be made of actual stone rather than plain cement blocks. They were high and rounded at the top, forming the roof of the cave. Obviously. It _was_ the Batcave after all. Dick had heard it mentioned here and there on the news as Batman's ultra high-tech hideout, but he had never imagined it to be an actual cave. He'd thought that was just a name for it. Nor had he imagined all of this to be hiding under Wayne manor.

That, however, wasn't what was so fascinating. Filling up the enormous space were mounds of futuristic equipment, something he would expect to find in a science fiction movie. Again, he was aware that such things existed in the Batcave, but seeing them was a different story altogether. Some of these devices appeared to be computers, but there were others that were completely odd and foreign to him. Some of them had weird blinking lights, while others had all kinds of levers and moving parts.

The really strange thing, however, was that they were all labeled with little wooden plaques. He couldn't read any of them from where he was standing, so he finally let go of the pole and stepped off the mound of foam that had cushioned his fall. In front of him were four steps which led downwards. He took them carefully, feeling odd about intruding on such a place that was so beyond him.

Dick's boots echoed throughout the cave on the hard cement floor as he went. He looked about for any sign of either Bruce or Alfred, but the place remained entirely quiet except for him. The very first piece of equipment he came to was facing away from him, so he laid his hand on its smooth metal surface, carefully walking around to the front of it. It was a large metal box with blinking red and orange lights flashing underneath what looked to be a piece of glass set into its top. The sign on top of it, however, was what immediately caught Dick's attention:

**_BAT CRIME ANALYZER_**

"Oh, my…" Dick's breathed, but his words died in his throat.

Dick didn't move from his spot, and he couldn't see any of the signs on the other pieces of equipment, but he knew without a doubt that they were all labeled similarly. And he didn't need to see any more. He didn't know why the writing on the walls, why the cave itself apparently hadn't been enough, but it was actually this piece of equipment seemed to hit home for him.

A part of him knew what all of these words meant, what this cave meant, but another part of him was simply not willing to believe it. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. Could it? Even with the words as plain as day, Dick still couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

Was this really happening? He still thought that he was having a completely crazy dream that he still hadn't awoken from. Reaching across his chest with his right hand, he pinched his left arm hard through his sweatshirt. He flinched from the pain, but still he stood there, the apparent Batcave spread out before him.

Dick's throat suddenly felt almost too tight for him to breath. The atmosphere of the cave was nearly suffocating. He gripped the corner of the console tightly, taking a moment to look around the room and trying to calm himself. On a desk on the far side of the room was yet another bright red phone, which matched the one from up in the study. Then, across from that stood the oddest piece of equipment yet. It almost appeared to be a nuclear reactor of some sort, like he had read about in school. There was a large warning sign at top, advising caution:

**_ATOMIC PILE  
__KEEP OFF  
__SUPER HIGH, HIGH VOLTAGE_**

This was just insane. Things like this didn't exist in real life. But Dick didn't know what else to make out of the evidence that was staring him in the face. He didn't need to investigate any further to come to the conclusion: Bruce was Batman. There was no denying it anymore, no more trying to explain it away.

But that simply didn't make any sense. How could Bruce be Batman? On the other hand, however, it made all the sense in the world. It would certainly help explain why Bruce was constantly running off at the most inopportune moments. It would explain why he could never make any solid plans with Dick. Why he always ended up canceling and disappearing for hours on end. He was fighting crime.

"Oh my god, Bruce," Dick whispered, his voice cracking on his mentor's name.

Dick suddenly didn't care about Bruce finding out that he had been snooping around, that he had violated Bruce's trust in the most glaring way possible. Dick didn't care about the disappointed expression that was bound to cross Bruce's face. Dick simply didn't care. All he wanted in that moment was to talk to Bruce, to tell him he knew. For Bruce to help him make sense out of all this.

Dick didn't know if he was being foolish, but was it too stupid to hope that Bruce would be relieved? Would Bruce be happy that he no longer had to lie and hide things from Dick? That he could finally be completely honest with his ward about what he was doing all the time? About why Bruce constantly had to bail on all the plans they made? Or would Bruce be completely angry? Would he hate Dick for intruding on his privacy? Would he be mad that Dick had done something he promised he would never do?

But still, Dick only wanted to talk to him. Dick felt like he had so many questions to ask, so many things to say to the man that he now respected even more than he originally had. Dick already had enormous amounts of respect for Bruce of course, but now it was different. Dick had no idea that Bruce was constantly out risking his life in order to make Gotham City a safer place for everyone. For Dick. For people like Bruce's and Dick's parents, who had paid the ultimate price for the crime that ran rampant.

Plus, it also helped to put things into perspective. For so long, Dick had been _angry_ at Bruce for constantly canceling their plans, but now…how in the world could Dick be mad about this? Bruce was already giving as much as he could to Dick and to the city. There was only so much of one man that could go around. Bruce was probably spread so thin as it was and didn't have much else left to give. In fact, knowing what he knew now, Dick was rather impressed that Bruce had as much time to devote to his personal life as he did.

Dick suddenly felt horrible for giving Bruce any flack at all. Bruce obviously already had so much on his plate, and Dick could barely imagine just how difficult it was for him. Surely Bruce didn't like lying to Dick all the time, and he was actually out fighting crime and trying to save people's lives. It was hardly the millionaire playboy lifestyle that Dick had been envisioning this entire time.

Sighing, Dick leaned back against the console and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt like he had a lot of making up to do to Bruce, and he really wasn't quite sure how he was going to go about that. Again, the only thing that Dick really wanted in that moment was just to talk to Bruce. To sit down with him like they had done so often and just discuss things. As much as Dick was still afraid that Bruce would be angry or disappointed in him, Dick was sure that they could work this out if they only talked it through.

He got his wish when, a moment later, a tremendous roaring sound exploded in the Batcave. Dick nearly jumped out of his skin before he saw what appeared to be the Batmobile thundering in through the large opening on the other side of the room. It was almost surreal, actually standing there and watching the _Batmobile_ of all things skidding to a stop before him. He had seen more than enough of Batman on the news and in the newspaper, but to actually see a part of that right in front of him was startling.

As soon as the Batmobile parked, the driver's side door sprung open to reveal Batman getting out. He didn't notice the intruder in the Batcave just yet, and Dick's heart seemed to explode in his chest, waiting for that moment when Batman would notice him. Pushing himself away from the computer, Dick stood up as straight as an arrow, almost like his correct posture would make up for any of the bad things he had done in the last hour or so.

Dick wasn't even sure how he should address this man before him. He was Batman, but…he was still Bruce, and Dick thought it would be odd to call him anything else. That, however, was really the least of his worries, because now it was the moment of truth. How in the world was Bruce going to react to see Dick standing there in the _Batcave_? After all they had discussed about Bruce's study being off-limits, and now here Dick was, exactly where he didn't belong.

Batman sprinted across the Batcave, apparently towards the pole that would take him back up to the study, but then he spotted his young ward. As soon as his eyes drifted over to Dick, Batman froze in his spot, looking like he'd just seen a ghost.

Dick stared into the eyes beneath the cowl, as if searching for answers, and now there was absolutely no mistaking it. This was his Bruce. It was those same blue eyes staring at him, the very same ones that he looked into all the time whenever he and Bruce sat down for a heart-to-heart. It was him.

What now?

_Yes, what now, Batfans?!  
__How will Batman react to seeing Dick in the Batcave?  
__How can Dick possibly explain himself?  
__Will things ever be the same between them again?_

_For the answers to these and more terrifying questions,  
__Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_Keep your Batwings crossed until then!_


	3. Chapter 3: Nothing We Can't Weather

_When we last saw our burgeoning Dynamic Duo, Dick had just stumbled upon the Batcave. Moments later, Batman had come roaring in in the Batmobile to find Dick in his most private and off-limits of places. How will Batman react? Will Dick be able to explain his actions? What will become of Bruce Wayne's relationship with his young ward?_

_Hold on to your Bat-seats! The answers are yet to come!_

**On Wings of Steel  
**Chapter 3 – Nothing We Can't Weather

Dick was expecting Bruce to get angry, to start scolding him about how he shouldn't be there, but that wasn't what he did at all. Rather – was it too much to hope for? – Bruce's eyes almost looked amused underneath that mask of his. And then the very corner of Bruce's lips curled up. He didn't quite smile, however. It was that expression Bruce had when Dick had done something wrong, but Bruce still found it slightly amusing for some reason. Like the time Dick had told an off-color joke that Bruce hadn't quite approved of, but Bruce had still found it funny and had laughed regardless, despite his best efforts to the contrary.

Batman stopped next to another piece of equipment, staring down at it and placing his gloved hand flat on the surface as if to support himself. It was like Bruce was pondering exactly what he should say next, as if he wasn't exactly sure if he should scold Dick or not.

Dick wished he could think of something to say, but his mind was blank. He thought he should probably explain himself, tell Bruce why he was there where shouldn't be. Offer some sort of explanation and apologize for breaking the rules. But he simply stood there. He still wasn't sure exactly what it was Bruce was thinking, and he thought it might be prudent to let Bruce speak first.

Still staring down at his hand, Bruce said, "I wondered when you might find your way down here."

Dick still wasn't entirely sure what to say. Should he laugh? Bruce's tone was slightly amused, but Dick didn't know if that was the best move. Again, should he apologize? Should he just ask what it was Bruce was thinking? He wished Bruce would say something else, because the suspense was beginning to kill him.

"I didn't think it would be long now," Bruce said, finally looking up at his young ward.

Without even thinking about it, the question burst out of Dick's lips before he could scarcely even process it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Again, there was that amused expression passing over Bruce's features (the ones that Dick could see, at least). Bruce's eyes were squinted in laughter, and the very corners of his lips were curled up in a smile. Letting out a heavy breath, Bruce looked up at the ceiling, as if it might contain all the answers he needed about how to handle this.

"It's not exactly a conversation I knew how to start," Bruce explained. "'Dick, I'm Batman' seemed a little…tactless. But like I said, I didn't think it would be long before you decided to do a little digging. I know you've been more and more disappointed and angry at me for continually breaking our plans, even if you never said as much."

"Bruce," Dick said around an exhalation of air. He closed his eyes before he went on. "I'm so sorry. I never knew that this was what…" Dick broke off, not entirely sure how to phrase his thoughts. He waved his hand around the room instead. "What you were doing."

"Of course it wasn't," Bruce agreed. "I tried my very best to hide it from you. Which obviously didn't prove to be enough." He paused, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway. "How did you get down here?"

Dick simply motioned behind him, back towards the pole he had slid down. "You're right, I was angry," he finally admitted. "There were just…too many questions, things that didn't make sense, so…I poked around in your study a little bit." Dick shrugged, as if this might lessen the impact of what it was he was saying. "It was an accident, really. I bumped into that bust of Shakespeare, and…it kind of went from there."

Dick didn't mention anything about the conversation he had overheard between Alfred and the commissioner, but that really wasn't necessary at this point, was it? He was still afraid that he was going to be scolded and punished, even if Bruce did find this all entertaining. Dick didn't think it best to push his luck at the moment. After all, Bruce didn't approve of eavesdropping anyway.

"So you never had an inkling before this?" Bruce asked.

Dick shook his head. "I had no idea. If I had, I probably would have just come right out and asked you."

There was that smile again, dancing across Bruce's lips. He nodded and said, "I imagine it was quite a shock when you slid down the Batpole, then."

"To say the least," Dick replied, a small hint of laughter apparent in his own voice. "But…" Dick looked back at the pole, smiling. "The Batpole." Dick had been aware of its name from the writing on the wall, but hearing the term actually spoken out loud was amusing to him.

"Batpole," Bruce repeated. "Batmobile, Batcave, Bat Crime Computer. I'm nothing if not predictable."

"Oh, Bruce," Dick said around a small chuckle. "You're anything but. If you were, I probably would have figured this out a lot longer before I did. Without having to take a little trip down the Batpole, too." Was this how things were going to be? Was Dick going to have to start adding words like _Batpole_ into his vocabulary?

"I take it Alfred doesn't know you're down here," Bruce said.

"I…I don't think so," Dick stammered. "I haven't seen him. Not since this afternoon." Dick didn't like lying to Bruce, but again, wasn't it enough that Dick was even down here to begin with? As easygoing as Bruce was being about all this, Dick knew he was probably still going to be in trouble, and he really didn't need to add fuel to the fire, did he?

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Dick apologized again. "I know I shouldn't be down here, and I shouldn't have been snooping in your study. I just…I wanted to know. I wanted to know what you were doing every time you ran out on me." Dick grimaced. He hadn't entirely meant to try and lay a guilt trip on Bruce. After all, Dick knew that he was very much in the wrong here himself. His words had just come out before he could fully think about what he was saying.

Bruce gestured towards the small set of stairs that led down from the Batpole. "Let's sit down for a minute," Bruce said, beginning to make his way over to the steps.

Dick followed suit and was amazed to see Bruce removing his Batman mask as they went. Dick was well aware of the fact that he had been talking to Bruce this entire time, but actually watching him remove his mask and go from one identity to the other was fascinating to him.

Bruce had pulled his mask off, running his hand through his brown hair as he sat down on the steps. Laying his mask in his lap, he smiled and patted the spot next to him, inviting Dick to join him.

Dick did so, staring down at the mask now sitting in Bruce's lap. He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around everything that was happening. That his Bruce was _the Batman_. The Batman that he had seen in news clips all the time, heralding what a hero he was.

"I feel like I need to apologize to you," Bruce said around a sigh. He frowned deeply, staring across the Batcave at the unbelievably shiny Batmobile sitting in its parking space. "Believe me, I never liked canceling on you all the time, and I know how disappointed you were in me. How hurt you were, even if you never said so." He finally turned his head, staring at Dick long and hard.

"You're right," Dick agreed, hanging his head. Remembering all of the hurt he had felt over their canceled plans always managed to dim his spirits. "I was. Only because I liked all the time we did manage to spend together." Finally lifting his head and facing Bruce's stare, he said, "I was really looking forward to this weekend."

"I was too," Bruce replied sincerely. "I don't want you to think that _any_ of our time together was a chore or a hassle for me in any way. I don't want you to think that I wanted to break my promises to you, because I didn't. I _hated_ lying to you all the time about what I was really doing. Somehow 'millionaire socialite affairs' sounds so…fake. Mainly because it was." Bruce leaned towards Dick, his intense blue eyes almost seeming to bore through his young ward. "I didn't want you to think that _anything_ in this world was more important than you are, because that couldn't be further from the truth. Especially not any millionaire functions I could attend. Just…"

"More critical," Dick replied, almost without even thinking. He frowned before admitting, "I heard what Alfred said to you before you left today. I…couldn't help overhearing."

"You mean eavesdropping," Bruce corrected.

Dick shrugged, making a face. "Call it what you will," he said in a teasing tone.

Sighing, Bruce continued, "Like I said, I almost fully expected you turn up down here one day. Anyone with half a brain could see that something funny was going on with me. I only wondered how long you would stand for it. I wanted to tell you so badly, I just couldn't figure out how. A part of me even wished and hoped that you would just figure it out yourself to spare me the agony of having to explain it all."

A long moment of silence passed between them before Bruce continued on. "You see, when I first took you in, I had every intention of hiding the entire thing from you forever. There was just one little thing I didn't count on."

Looking up at him curiously, Dick asked, "What's that?"

"This," Bruce said, gesturing between them. Then he clarified, "Us." He shook his head, eyeing the Batcave again. "I never imagined in a million years that we'd become so close." He paused for a long time before he continued. "I mean, I never thought…I'd find my son." Bruce's words were barely above a whisper, but Dick heard him loud and clear.

Dick didn't reply right away. He was too busy trying to swallow away the lump that had settled in his throat. Bruce kept staring straight ahead, almost like he wasn't sure if he should have said anything and was afraid of Dick's reaction. Although they had never talked about this before, Dick never thought it needed to be. Bruce was his legal guardian after all. Their relationship had already more or less fallen into that of parent-child, so what needed to be said?

Actually hearing Bruce put their relationship into words, however, was a bit more than Dick had been expecting. He had looked up to Bruce as a father figure for a long time now and he'd had a feeling that Bruce felt the same way, but sometimes, he wasn't quite so sure. Like when Bruce constantly canceled their plans together, it had made Dick feel like he wasn't as quite as important to Bruce. That he always took a backseat to the other things going on in Bruce's life. But now…Bruce had assuaged all those fears and had finally spelled things out for him. Dick couldn't quite believe it.

"I never…" Dick began, but then he stopped again. He swallowed, trying to moisten his throat and taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he went on. "I never knew you felt that way."

Bruce finally turned to face him upon hearing the welcoming tone in Dick's voice. "I do," Bruce admitted. "I know I never came right out and told you, but…well, I'm a man of few words sometimes. I'd always hoped that my actions would speak for themselves, but…I know I've been lacking in that area as of late."

"It's fine," Dick said endearingly. "I mean…it wasn't at the time. I've been angry at you of course, but…if I had known you already had so much going on in your life…" Dick paused, gesturing around the Batcave.

"I don't want to get a free pass because of this," Bruce immediately protested. "Like I said, you're my son. In every way that counts. And that requires a lot more than so many canceled plans and lazy excuses. As my son, you deserve so much more than that, and I've been feeling horrible about the lies I've been feeding you. When you were _just_ my ward, it seemed okay somehow. But the closer and closer we've become…it was getting harder and harder to look you in the eye and so blatantly lie to you. I've wanted so badly to be a good role model for you, but how could I be that when I couldn't even be honest with you? How could I expect that same honesty from you when half of our relationship was based on lies?"

Dick had started to quietly laugh, which caused Bruce to stop and stare at him.

"Sorry," Dick said. "I'm not trying to throw this all back in your face or anything. I wouldn't do that. But those were some of my same reasons for not wanting to go into your study. How could I look you in the eye when I had gone behind your back and disobeyed you? I didn't want to. I just…I needed to know."

"It's not your fault, Dick," Bruce said reassuringly. "I didn't really give you much choice in the matter, did I? Like you said, you were feeling hurt and backed into a corner. I rather doubt I would have been able to stand for it either. You just wanted to know why I kept disappointing you all the time. You deserved an answer, and I'm sorry I didn't just come right out and tell you. I'm sorry I didn't _feel_ like I could do that. We talk about pretty much everything else anyway. I don't know why this one was so difficult."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, each of them glancing around the Batcave, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Bruce went on, "Or maybe I do. I kept telling myself, kept telling Alfred, that I was simply protecting you. It's the same reason I won't dare tell Aunt Harriet. Because I know she'd be worried sick if she knew what I was really out doing all the time. I can't bear to put that kind of stress on her, and I couldn't bear to put it on you either. And well, the fewer people that know, the better."

"To be fair," Dick disagreed, "I think that not knowing was worse. Because it was becoming more and more apparent that you were hiding something from me, and I hated the thought that you were lying to me so much."

"I realized that," Bruce said, nodding. "It's easier with Aunt Harriet. I love her, of course, but I'm nowhere near as close to her as I am to you. I don't cancel nearly as many plans with her as I do with you. I was just lying to myself a lot – that keeping you in the dark would be better for you in the long run." After a moment of silence, Bruce raised an eyebrow and asked, "You're not going to up half the night worrying about me when I'm not home now, are you?"

"How can I not?" Dick asked honestly. A slight regretful expression passed over Bruce's face at this, causing Dick to sigh. "Listen, Bruce. What you said before – that I've become like a son to you – it isn't one-sided, you know. You've become so much more like a father to me than I ever thought you would. When I first came here, I didn't want it to become like that. I felt like letting you take over that rule would be…dishonoring my own father somehow."

"I know," Bruce said. "I felt the same way about Alfred after my own parents died. That I was letting him…replace them somehow, and that they'd be hurt by it."

Dick nodded in agreement. "I tried so hard," he said, "to not grow close to you. You offered so many times to take me fishing or to just play chess with me, and I'd just lock myself in my room instead."

"I remember," Bruce said. "You were so angry, but how could you not be? Believe me, I was the same way. You'd just been through so much, and you simply weren't sure how to handle it all. It was so much to process and feeling like you might be betraying your parents at the same time just made it worse. I know," he repeated.

"And I wanted to so badly," Dick admitted, squinting his eyes at the memory. "I wanted so badly to take you up on those offers, because…I felt so alone. I wanted nothing more than to…have a friend. I spent so many nights up in my room, _battling_ with myself, because I wasn't sure what to do. But then I thought…just spending a little time with you wouldn't hurt. My parents might even be happy that I was able to make a friend after everything that had happened. But then I found myself growing closer and closer to you and…it almost happened before I was even able to fully realize it had."

Dick let out of a soft breath of air, somewhere between a laugh and a small gasp of disbelief. "I remember you waking me up one morning for breakfast, and my first thought was, 'Dad.' I was still half asleep. I think I may have even been dreaming about my dad, but the more I woke up, the more I smiled about it – that I at least had you when I couldn't have him. I just laid there for the longest time with this huge grin on my face. That was when I realized that my parents wouldn't be hurt by it in the least, because above all, they'd want me to be happy and taken care of. And that's what you've always done for me – made me feel safe, happy, and taken care of. Just like a father would." He stared up at Bruce, smiling.

Unable to find the words to reply, Bruce simply placed a hand on Dick's shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

"So of course I'm going to worry," Dick said, "just like any child would worry if their parent was out doing something potentially dangerous, like a fireman or policeman. It comes with the territory. But I'm just…glad you're not going to be lying to me anymore, and I'm glad you're not disappointed in me."

Bruce turned to look at him quickly. "Why on earth would I be disappointed in you?"

"For going into your study when I promised I wouldn't." Dick swallowed hard before asking, "Are you angry with me?"

Bruce shook his head. "I told you, I was hoping you'd find out one way or the other. If that's what it took you, then so be it. Besides, I wasn't being completely truthful with you either, so…can we both agree that we made mistakes? I'd say that makes us pretty even, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," Dick said around a sigh of relief.

"As long as you don't make a habit out of it," Bruce said, that familiar scolding tone of his returning for a brief moment.

"I won't," Dick promised around a grin. "Finding out that you were Batman – that was definitely a very special circumstance. I doubt anything on par with that will ever happen again, so I won't really have need to, will I?"

"I hope not."

The two of them sat like that for a very long time. Dick wanted to ask something, but he wasn't quite sure how to do it. Then again, it occurred to him that that was exactly what had gotten them into this position in the first place – hiding things from each other, because they were afraid. If Dick had learned anything in all of this, it was that he could be completely honest with Bruce. After all, there wasn't anything else quite as earth-shattering as one of them having a secret identity. Whatever it was, he could talk to Bruce about it, and they would work it out. He knew they could.

"Bruce?"

"Hm?"

Rather than come right out and ask his question, Dick fidgeted around a bit. He played with his fingers for a moment before picking at a small patch of discoloration on his blue jeans.

"What, Dick?" Bruce spurred him on. "Whatever it is, you can ask me."

"Would it be too forward of me to ask who it was?" Dick asked sheepishly. When Bruce didn't answer right away, Dick said, "It's not really any of my business anyway."

Even though Dick's question was rather vague, Bruce knew exactly what he was getting at, and he didn't need Dick to clarify at all. Bruce knew a lot of the time, even when Dick didn't always spell things out for him.

A part of Bruce didn't really want to tell Dick. It was the same part of him that had wanted to keep him completely sheltered from all of this to begin with. But at the same time, Bruce knew that Dick was never going to let it go. Not now. Besides, how could Bruce continue to hide things from Dick after the events of that day? After everything they had just discussed?

After a very long pause, Bruce finally admitted, "I suppose you'd find out from the television or the newspaper anyway. It's the Riddler. And it's not over. I spent the day in Commissioner Gordon's office, trying to figure out what his next move could be."

Dick was watching him closely with a curious look on his face. Bruce knew that Dick wanted to ask more, that he most likely wanted to know everything about the case, but he wasn't going to do anything as bold as come right out and ask. Dick was a rather curious and inquisitive young man. He liked to know everything about what was going on, but he also practiced quite a bit of decorum and didn't like to seem too pushy or greedy in his questions.

"I'll tell you what," Bruce said, picking his mask up in one hand. "Why don't you go on upstairs? Let me get out of this suit and I'll be up in a minute." Bruce checked the clock on the wall over the large mouth of the cave before continuing. "It's nearly dinnertime anyway. Can't fight crime on an empty stomach."

This brought a smile to Dick's face. Even though he knew that Bruce obviously had so much to do as Batman, Dick still wanted some time with him too. Especially since their weekend away had been entirely ruined by this point, even something as small as a dinner together would be nice.

As they stood up from the steps, Bruce gestured to a large sign on the wall just past the Batpole. It had a large red arrow painted on it, which pointed deeper into the Batcave. It read:

_**TO SERVICE ELEVATOR**_

"You can take the service elevator up to the study," Bruce told him. "I'll be right there."

Dick silently made his way down towards the elevator, not bothering to tell Bruce that he was already well aware of the device. He decided that he would never tell anyone that he had been hiding in the study and had seen Alfred use the service elevator just that afternoon. Bruce had already been so forgiving and understanding of Dick's curiosity in this entire situation, and Dick thought it was best not to push his luck.

Upon calling the elevator, Dick quickly stepped inside and eyed the buttons. He saw there was one for the first floor and one for the second floor. He wasn't quite sure where the second floor shaft opened up to, so he made a mental note to ask Bruce about that.

As soon as the elevator opened up into the study, Dick stepped out to see Bruce already waiting for him and back in his street clothes. He was seated in one of the armchairs by the fire, and Dick quickly sat down opposite him. Dick leaned in close, and he felt vaguely like a little kid, waiting for some surprise that was coming.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and hesitation.

"Did he leave a riddle?" Dick asked eagerly, waving his hand for Bruce to continue.

"You are entirely too excited about this," Bruce observed. "We are talking about a criminal, after all."

"Just thought I'd help," Dick said quietly, "that's all." He stared down at his feet for a moment, his face burning uncomfortably. He only wanted for Bruce to include him in some of the other things in his life. It was only now occurring to him just how much Bruce did on a daily basis, so much that didn't involve Dick. It made Dick feel more left out the more he thought about it, and he only wanted an inkling of what it was his guardian had to deal with.

"I know," Bruce sighed, staring into the roaring flames in the fireplace. "A part of me still wants to protect you from all of this, that's all."

"My parents were killed by criminals," Dick whispered. "I don't think I can get any more involved than that."

Bruce looked back at him quickly, his expression one of sympathy. "Fair enough."

"Besides," Dick said, attempting to break up the heavy tension that had settled into the room. "It's not like I'm actually getting involved in anything the Riddler's doing. I'm not in any danger. I'm safe and sound here, helping you solve the next riddle. And you must need help or you wouldn't be here."

Bruce still didn't appear entirely convinced, but he decided to confide in Dick anyway. Nodding, Bruce said, "The riddle itself was rather amateur at best, but I'm not sure entirely what he meant by it. 'Why is a Latin teacher like a criminal'?"

Frowning, Dick considered this for a moment, staring into the fireplace. But then the answer came to him almost immediately. "Because they both have a modus operandi!"

"Exactly," Bruce agreed, "but what could the Riddler possibly be trying to tell me? The Riddler's MO is riddles obviously, but that doesn't exactly help. Something with a Latin teacher possibly, but-"

As soon as Bruce said it, it hit Dick. "Bruce, don't you see?" he interrupted. "MO! He could be pointing you towards something else that has the same initials!"

"Of course!" Bruce exclaimed, his eyes widening like a light bulb had suddenly lit up over his head.

"It could stand for the Moscow Oblast," Dick added.

"It could mean molecular orbital, a mathematical function."

"Modena, a province in Italy."

"It's the postal code of Missouri."

"Molybdenum."

This earned Dick a stare. Bruce was one of the most brilliant men he knew, even more so now that he knew he was Batman. When Dick was able to come up with something that Bruce had not – better yet, when he simply _knew_ something that his guardian did not – it made Dick feel slightly less inferior.

"It's a chemical element," Dick explained, "used in making steel alloys. Its symbol is MO. I just learned it in chemistry."

"Oh," Bruce said quietly, seemingly perturbed that he hadn't thought of this. He blinked several times, the expression on his face becoming one of intense concentration. When he spoke again, it was slowly, something that Dick had become very familiar with. Dick took it as a sign that Bruce's thoughts were moving so quickly and he was probably afraid of doing anything to interrupt them.

"I seem to remember reading something in the Gotham Times about an old steelworks being closed down and abandoned a few weeks ago due to its unsafe conditions," Bruce said. "That might be what the Riddler is using as a hideout."

"Unsafe," Dick mused. "Sounds like it."

Bruce immediately sprang to his feet, but he wasn't quite quick enough to miss the disappointed expression on Dick's face.

"You're leaving again?" Dick asked.

Bruce let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes. "Dinner," he remembered regretfully.

Dick shook his head and said, "Go." His tone, however, was much more convincing and supportive than it had been just that afternoon. "The sooner you check it, the sooner you might be to closing this case and getting the Riddler back behind bars where he belongs."

Bruce gave him an encouraging smile. "I just didn't think I'd be able to solve his riddle so soon. I was resigned to the fact that I'd be pondering it over dinner and for most of the night."

Dick grinned, knowing a compliment when he heard one. "You're welcome."

Bruce turned, heading towards the bust of Shakespeare on his desk. Before he flipped back the playwright's head, however, he turned back towards Dick. "Why don't you go find Alfred?" Bruce suggested. "Tell him you know."

"And give him a heart attack," Dick snickered. "Don't you think that's a lot to drop on him? 'Hey, Alfred. I know Bruce is Batman. Let's eat.'"

Bruce smirked, but then he said, "I don't think he'll be all that surprised. I've been telling him for ages how I was hoping you'd just figure the whole thing out, and he's been telling me how bright and determined you are. He seemed fairly certain that you'd do it at some point or another. Although he's been encouraging me forever to just come right out and confide in you about it. He knows how torn up I was about having to lie to you."

"You don't have to anymore," Dick reminded him.

"No," Bruce said firmly. "Never again, Dick. I promise." Bruce's expression suddenly changed into one of uncertainty. "Although I'm not very good at making and keeping promises to you, am I?"

"It's not your fault," Dick said. "You didn't want to, and you wouldn't unless you absolutely had to. I know that now."

Bruce nodded appreciatively. "I _will_ keep this one. Whatever it is I'm doing, I _won't_ lie to you about it anymore."

"I know," Dick repeated. "Now go."

Bruce didn't say another word, and he knew he didn't have to. He silently pulled back the head on the bust of Shakespeare, turning the knob that it had opened up underneath. This triggered the bookcase on the other side of the room to spring open. As Bruce closed up the head of Shakespeare and turned to run towards the Batpole, Dick stopped him.

"Bruce?"

Just before he reached for the Batpole, Bruce stopped, turning around to face Dick once more.

"Be careful," Dick told him.

Bruce nodded once. "I always am." Without another word, Bruce reached for the Batpole, hoisting himself onto it and disappearing out of sight.

Dick sighed, but it wasn't one of sadness or disappointment. It was a sound of contentment. He had so much love and respect for Bruce in that moment that he felt like he might bust with the tension it was creating in his chest. Not to mention, he and Bruce had finally put a lot of things on the table that they'd been keeping from each other for a long time. No more lying to each other, no more guilt from being dishonest with the other. They could finally be completely open with each other, and now there was one thing that Dick knew for sure – that he was the most important thing in the world to Bruce and nothing could ever change that.

Smiling, he went to find Alfred.

_What could the Riddler possibly be up to?  
__Is Batman on the right trail?  
__Will he find the Riddler's secret hideout?  
__Will Batman return home safely to Dick?_

_Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_One word of warning:  
__The worst is yet to come!_


	4. Chapter 4: The Midnight Hour

_When we last visited Wayne Manor, Bruce had just departed, following what he hoped to be a clue as to the Riddler's location. Dick was left to share his newfound knowledge of Bruce's secret identity with Alfred and to imagine where Bruce's adventures were taking him. Is Batman okay? How will this turn of events ultimately affect our beloved duo?_

_Stay tuned! The answers are soon to come!_

**On Wings of Steel  
**Chapter 4 – The Midnight Hour

Dick couldn't sleep at all that night. Bruce still hadn't come home since he left again before dinner, and Dick was nearly sick with worry. Dick supposed that this was exactly what Bruce had been trying to prevent when he decided to keep his secret identity hidden. A part of Dick wondered how Alfred dealt with it all.

Dick then wondered if Alfred was still awake. Now that Dick knew about Bruce's double life too, perhaps he could talk to Alfred about it.

Pushing his blankets aside, Dick sat up in bed. He glanced to his bedside clock to see that it was still fairly early – only going on midnight. Surely the butler might still be up, finishing up a few things or maybe even worrying about Bruce himself.

Getting up, Dick fished his bathrobe from the chair next to his bed and haphazardly pulled it on. Not bothering to turn the light on, he stumbled around in the dark, searching the floor with his feet. Finally, they met the soft plush of his slippers, and he plunged his feet into them.

He ran his hand through his hair and went to his door, pulling it open. He stuck his head out into the hall, and for just a moment, he was reminded of his afternoon search of Bruce's study. Had that only been earlier that very day? It now seemed like a lifetime ago. So very much had happened since then, and he never imagined he'd be here – waiting up at night for Bruce to safely return from his duties as Batman.

Dick didn't hear any other noises in the rest of the house, so he decided to check Alfred's bedroom first. Closing his door behind him, Dick crossed the long hall to the servants' quarters. Bruce had tried more than once to have Alfred moved to a different bedroom, one that didn't carry the connotation of "servants' quarters", but Alfred always refused. Alfred insisted that he had been using the same room since the day he had come to work for the Waynes, and he felt at home there.

Bruce never seemed happy with Alfred's answer, but always let the subject drop for a while before he brought it up again. Dick wondered how long this battle of wills had been going on between his guardian and butler before he'd even arrived at Wayne manor.

Continuing on down hall and rounding the corner, Dick came to the corridor that led to Alfred's bedroom. The door in question stood slightly ajar with a narrow pillar of golden lamplight spilling out onto the crimson-and-cream-colored hall carpet. Dick quietly approached it and softly pushed open Alfred's bedroom door further.

"Master Dick," Alfred exclaimed immediately, sounding startled. "What are you doing up?"

The butler was sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through a large leather-bound tome that was laying open in his lap. He, too, was in his bathrobe, ready to retire after a long, surprising, and overall strange day. For everyone.

"I couldn't sleep," Dick said, coming into the bedroom and closing the door behind him. He wouldn't want Aunt Harriet to accidentally overhear their conversation, even though Dick was fairly certain she was sound asleep by this time.

"I'm worried about Bruce," Dick confided, taking a seat next to Alfred on the bed.

Alfred nodded, closing the book on his lap. "As Master Bruce was afraid you would be," Alfred told him, setting his book down on his bedside table. "Which was exactly one of the reasons why he didn't want you to know." He turned at look down at Dick over the top of his glasses.

Dick fidgeted a bit under Alfred's slightly disapproving tone. Sighing, Dick admitted, "I thought the truth would be better, but…I never imagined that what he was doing would be so dangerous. Not that I wanted to be lied to, and I'm glad he doesn't have to anymore, but…it's late."

"I know," Alfred said, placing a comforting hand on Dick's shoulder.

"How do you handle it?" Dick asked, looking up at the person that he had come to see as a surrogate grandfather. Alfred was ever the voice of reason, and Dick was sure that if anyone could make him feel better about things, it was him. Not that Dick had a lot of other options anyway, being one of only three people that knew the truth.

Alfred took a deep breath before he let it out slowly. "This has made up the majority of our relationship – he's been Batman since he was not much older than you. I've…gotten used to it, I suppose."

"How can you get used to the boy you raised going out and risking his life like this?" Dick asked. He was vaguely aware of how accusing his tone was, which he hung his head for. "I'm sorry, Alfred. I just…" Dick broke off, not sure of what more he could even say at this point.

"It's worrisome," Alfred agreed, nodding. "It is. I'm not going to pretend that it isn't. I just…try and not to think about it so much." When Dick glanced at him quickly, Alfred clarified, "And I'm aware of how bad that sounded. But I've found that if I dwell too much on what Master Bruce is getting up to, on what danger he might be in, it will drive me crazy. I have to let him do it, because…it's what he does. It's what he's done for a long time. What he wanted to do since he was very small. It became his dream, more or less, after what happened to his parents, to try and make sure that things like didn't happen to anyone else."

"Can't blame him for that," Dick said quietly, staring blankly at the small patch of moonlight streaming in through the window and landing on the carpet.

"Like I said," Alfred went on carefully, "I try not to dwell on the specifics too much. You can't. You simply can't function in your daily life if you do, because it will soon grow to consume you. It quickly becomes overwhelming. It's not good for your emotional state."

Dick nodded, knowing Alfred was right. "But how do you do that? How do you keep it from consuming you? I try so hard to think about other things, but my mind inevitably goes back to Bruce and what he might be going through."

"By keeping busy," Alfred suggested.

"That's why you're so diligent in your work!"

"That's not all of it," Alfred disagreed, "but it is a large part of it, yes." He shook his head. "If I didn't have my work, I'd probably be sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth with the graveness of it all."

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. "So you're saying I should do more homework, hm?"

"That wasn't my intention," Alfred said around a smirk. "I was simply answering your question. But in your case, yes – that would involve throwing yourself into your schoolwork and homework a bit more."

"Great," Dick mumbled. "That sure sounds like a ball all right – being up at midnight, doing my homework."

"You asked," Alfred replied smugly.

"I just wish he would check in more," Dick mused. "He's been gone for six hours."

"Sometimes the circumstances don't allow for it," Alfred reminded him, "and even then, he doesn't like to call at this hour. He worries about disturbing you and Mrs. Cooper with the noise, even with the Batphone all the way down in the study."

"I'm disturbed as it is," Dick said. He put his hands behind him, using them to prop himself up on the mattress and gently leaning back on them. "Even if I did keep busy for most of the day, it's lying in bed at night with nothing else to do that's getting to me. My mind keeps going to Bruce and what kind of trouble he might be in."

"If you don't mind my saying," Alfred replied, "I think that's the wrong way to look at it, Master Dick."

Looking up at the wise old man before him, Dick asked, "What do you mean?"

"Master Bruce has been doing this for a long time," Alfred reminded him. "For a lot longer than you've even known him, to be sure. He's careful and safety is his first priority. He doesn't take unnecessary risks, and he doesn't put himself in danger needlessly. He's skilled, which has taken years of training and practice. He's smart and calculating, and knows what to do and when to do it. In short, he's good at what he does."

"Gee, I don't doubt that, Alfred," Dick said. "Bruce is amazing. I know that. I've known that for as long as I've known him. It's the criminal element that I'm not so sure about."

"Indeed," Alfred said grimly, nodding. "All we can really do, Master Dick, is trust that Master Bruce is taking care of himself like I've always known him to do. Like _we've_ always known him to do." When Dick gave him a questioning look, Alfred explained, "You've been living here long enough now to know how careful he is. Have you ever known him to come home bloodied and bruised? Have you ever known him to be in pain or distress of any kind?"

"No," Dick replied, "but he has done a good job at hiding this entire thing from me. He could have been hiding other things too."

"Rest assured," Alfred told him, "that Master Bruce has never been seriously injured in any way." After a moment of silence, he added, "And you know I wouldn't tell you that unless it were absolutely true."

"I know you wouldn't, Alfred," Dick acknowledged. "And I know he's careful. I just still worry. I think about what happened to my parents, and my mind goes off on these tangents, coming up with all sorts of awful scenarios. I can't help it."

Just then, the door to Alfred's room squeaked open, and the only person on the face of the earth that could assuage Dick's fears stuck his head in.

"_Bruce_," Dick gasped out. He leapt up off the bed and sprinted across the floor, nearly throwing himself into his guardian's arms.

Bruce's blue eyes darted up to Alfred in concern before he wrapped his strong and calming arms around Dick.

"I just looked in your room to check on you and you weren't there," Bruce explained. "I was a bit worried. You shouldn't be up so late."

"_I_ was worried about _you_," Dick said, pulling away from Bruce and looking up into his guardian's eyes. "How can you expect me to sleep when you're out there doing goodness knows what?"

A small smile passed over Bruce's lips. "Now you see why I didn't want you to know?" Bruce asked quietly. "This is exactly what I was trying to prevent."

"I told him as much, sir," Alfred commented.

"I know," Dick sighed, "but I do know now, and I am going to worry. Not much we can do about that now, is there?" Placing his hands on his hips, Dick stared up at his guardian, giving him a meaningful glance.

They had already discussed this, and Bruce knew Dick was going to be worried about him. It was only because Dick cared about him and loved him, and Bruce couldn't exactly be upset about that.

"No," Bruce admitted. Placing a calming hand on Dick's shoulder, he said, "And I'm fine, Dick." He paused for a moment and looked up at Alfred. "I hardly even laid eyes on the Riddler, much less put myself in any sort of danger whatsoever."

"What happened?" Dick asked, that excitement ebbing at his voice once again. "Where were you all night if you didn't run into him? Didn't you check out the steelworks?"

"I did," Bruce said, pacing across the room to the window, "and it was still abandoned." When he turned back to face Alfred and Dick again, he continued, "All I found was another riddle. I followed it to another location, where I found yet another riddle. And another. And another. You get the idea. This went on for quite some time until I realized that the Riddler was simply leading me on a wild goose chase."

"But why?" Dick asked, furrowing his brow. He had taken a seat on the bed next to Alfred again, leaning intensely towards Bruce. It was like he was waiting on baited breath to find out more.

"That," Bruce said, "is the $64,000 question. "One that I don't have an answer for. Well, he's clearly trying to distract me. That much is obvious, but…he takes enjoyment out of giving me real clues and seeing how quickly I can catch up to him. He must be trying to bide his time while he's planning something big, but…what?"

"What was the last clue you received, sir?" Alfred asked. "They may have been leading you on a wild goose chase, but he's going to have to give you a legitimate clue sooner or later, isn't he? He can't help himself."

"No, he can't, Alfred." Bruce withdrew a small scrap of paper from his pocket and explained, "I found this one at the last location I went to – the Gotham City docks." Bruce unfolded the slip of paper and read, "'Riddle me this, Batman: He who makes it has no need for it. He who buys it has no use for it. He who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?'"

"Holy deadpan," Dick muttered, his face morphing into a grimace. "The answer's a coffin."

"Correct," Bruce agreed, pressing the fingers of one hand to his chin, "but what could he mean by it?"

"That he's planning on killing you?" Dick asked as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"The Riddler's wanted to kill me since the day he came to our fair metropolis. He wouldn't write a riddle to tell me that much," Bruce said, giving the small piece of paper a shake. "Not something I'm already painfully aware of. That would be a waste of his talents."

"He wouldn't be planning on holding up a funeral home or something, would he?" Dick asked, sounding sick to his stomach.

"Perhaps the grieving loved ones of a rich socialite such as yourself?" Alfred suggested.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Bruce said. "Not even _that_ is beneath him, but no, I don't think so. Kidnapping someone like Bruce Wayne and demanding ransom for his safe return would be much more lucrative. And predictable if he's looking for a specific amount of money." Staring down at the piece of paper in his hands, he shook his head. "No. The clue is obviously trying to tell me something else, but…I can't quite grasp it."

Bruce inhaled a heavy breath and let it out loudly, sounding frustrated. "Short of running around willy-nilly to all the places that have coffins – funeral homes, mortuaries, cemeteries – I didn't know where else to go. So I decided to come home and sleep on it."

Dick smiled up at Bruce, although there was something amiss about his expression. "Well, I am glad you're home now, Bruce. Maybe now I can get some sleep." Dick paused before he added, "As long as you're not planning on running out again sometime in the middle of the night."

"No worries, old chum," Bruce reassured him. "I've had enough fun running around Gotham City for one night. I'm exhausted. And I imagine the Ridder's off somewhere, laughing his head off about it all." Shaking his head, Bruce added, "I need a break. And until I figure out what this clue could mean, or until the Riddler gives me something else more concrete to go on, I'm at a bit of a dead end anyway."

"Things often do look brighter in the morning, sir," Alfred suggested.

"Right you are, Alfred," Bruce said, trying his best to sound cheery, but failing miserably. He gave a half-hearted smile, one that didn't even come close to reaching his eyes, and made his way towards the door. When he put his hand on the doorknob, he turned back and asked, "Are you coming, Dick?"

Dick only nodded. His voice was caught somewhere in his throat, and he found that he simply couldn't manage any words at that moment. It was just…too much.

Bruce nodded once at his butler before he pulled the door open. "Goodnight, Alfred."

"Goodnight," Dick added, following Bruce from the room.

As soon as they were out in the hall, Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce silenced him with a finger to his lips. Bruce then used his finger to beckon Dick forward, leading him all the way back down the hall to the opposite wing. Neither of them spoke, not until they reached Dick's room and were safely inside.

"What, Bruce?"

Bruce didn't answer him right away, but spent nearly a minute pacing around Dick's room, his fingers to his lips in quiet concentration. When he finally dared to speak, his tone was firm. "I wanted to make sure that you were, in fact, all right with all of this and that you weren't going to do anything…reckless."

"Reckless?" Dick asked, sounding shocked. "Like what? You don't think I'm about to go after the Riddler myself?"

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but then he thought better of his reply and shut his mouth.

"Bruce," Dick said seriously, "I'd hardly know what to do if I _did_ go after him."

Bruce watched him closely, his eyes still squinted in thought. "You have martial arts training."

"Are you trying to encourage me?"

"Of course not," Bruce insisted. "Not at all." Taking a few more steps across the room, Bruce glanced out of the window momentarily, staring up at the large and silvery moon in the sky. "I would never do such a thing. The last thing I would want is for you to put yourself in danger. I just can see why you might get such a foolish idea, and why you might try to act on it. I suppose it's making me slightly uncomfortable that you seem so…interested and excited about what the Riddler might be planning."

Bruce watched Dick closely for any sign that he may be right, and the fact that Dick wasn't saying anything to prove him wrong didn't help matters.

Bruce quickly went on, "I know you. I know the way you think." Shoving his hands in pockets, Bruce then said, "I suppose that was another one of the reasons why I didn't want you to know. Because you have this enormous sense of right and wrong, and it seems like something you might try to get involved in."

"Bruce," Dick said slowly and carefully, "nothing like that has even crossed my mind. I'm just…good at riddles and the fact that I might be able to help with them makes me feel important."

Not daring to reply, Bruce just watched him, paying close attention to his young ward's body language in particular. After nearly a minute had passed, Bruce said, "I thought we had agreed to lay all of our cards on the table." His tone was unwavering and nearly bordering on scolding.

"Bruce…" Dick tried, but his guardian cut him off.

"Don't lie to me."

Dick appeared slightly shocked at the way his guardian suddenly seemed intent on getting him to admit every single thought that had crossed his mind in the last ten hours. Dick really abhorred when he earned that tone of voice from Bruce. Hanging his head, Dick stared down at the floor intently.

Taking a step towards him, Bruce raised a hand, but then lowered it again. "I'm sorry, Dick," he said around a frustrated breath. "I didn't intend for this conversation to be this uncomfortable. It's just that I care and worry about you as much as you do about me. That feeling is very, very mutual. And just like you wouldn't want me to needlessly endanger myself, I wouldn't want you to do that either. Especially considering that you are my ward, and I'm supposed to look out for your best interests. It wouldn't do if I led you, a minor, into such a dangerous path at such a young age."

Dick didn't say anything for a long time. He sat down on the edge of his bed in silence, staring down at his hands in his lap. "You wouldn't be leading me into anything, Bruce. If I did do something like that, it would be of my own free will. Not because you tempted me into it or anything."

"So you have thought about it," Bruce observed.

"Momentarily," Dick sighed. "When we were first going over that steelworks riddle, and again just now in Alfred's room…" Dick broke off, glancing up at Bruce sheepishly. "That doesn't mean I was going to do it. I just thought about it."

"Momentarily," Bruce repeated.

"_Yes_," Dick insisted, and he really didn't like where this conversation was going or the tones of voice that he and Bruce were taking with each other. Did it really have to be this tense and uncomfortable when they were only discussing their mutual concern for one another?

"Look," Dick said flatly, "would there really be anything so bad about me trying to help you? That's what I would just be doing – trying to _help_ you. This world would be a much better place if our fellow man tried to do so a lot more. Isn't that what you've always taught me?"

Bruce opened his mouth and then stopped. He looked vaguely like a fish with his lips parted in a silent expression somewhere between surprise and satisfaction. When he finally gathered his thoughts, he said, "All right. No, it wouldn't be so bad for you to try and help me. I didn't say that. Nor would I ever. And you have been helping me. I would still be mulling over that steelworks riddle if not for you. That much is fine and I appreciate it. Don't think I don't. But that's where your involvement in this ends. I won't tolerate you getting some high-toned idea that you're going to join me in my crusade and become my partner. It's not going to happen."

"Fine," Dick said, trying his best to sound like he didn't care one way or the other what Bruce was telling him. "But you know, Bruce, thinking and doing are two entirely different things. You should know that by now."

Bruce approached Dick's bed, carefully and purposefully taking his steps. "I do know that, and I also know that you're prone to coming up with slightly foolish ideas and not being able to let them go, even when you know you should."

Dick clenched his hands tightly into fists. "You keep using that word – foolish. Was it so foolish when you decided to don the Batman cape for the first time when you weren't much older than I am now?"

"You've been talking to Alfred, I see."

"Of course I've been talking to Alfred!" Dick snapped. He didn't know what had come over him, but he suddenly stood up, bounding so close to Bruce that he could feel the other man's breath on his face. "What else am I supposed to do with you gone all night? I've been worried sick about you, and you don't seem to care one bit!"

Bruce was taken aback, not only with the fact that Dick was yelling at him, but also with Dick's words themselves. Bruce sucked in a breath, stepping backwards to try and calm the situation.

When Bruce spoke again, his voice was much quieter and softer. "I do care," he replied adamantly. "I appreciate your concern, and I'm sorry you've been up all night with worry. That was one of the reasons why I didn't want you to know about this at all if you'll recall."

"Oh, I recall," Dick said quietly. "You would have rather continued to lie to me about it all. Believe me, Bruce, that's not an easy thing to forget."

"You're putting words in my mouth," Bruce protested, but he sounded tired. Dick could understand that, because he was too.

However, it wasn't until then that Dick realized just how exhausted he really was, and how much he hated arguing with Bruce. They really hadn't exchanged heated words like this before, and doing so had made a very uncomfortable feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. It was almost like a brick had made its home there, but not quite; it was a much emptier feeling than that. Still, it felt heavy, which didn't quite make sense to him. How could something feel heavy and empty at the same time?

Dick almost wanted to crawl into bed then and there and forget this awful turn of events that the night had taken. As Alfred had told Bruce not so very long ago, things always looked better in the morning. Perhaps if they slept this argument off, the both of them would wake feeling much less hot-headed about a lot of things. Maybe then they could talk this thing through calmly like they usually did.

What was it about tonight that was making things so difficult? That was making them so cross with each other? Dick supposed it was just a mixture of everything that had happened so far today, a combination of everything they had felt so far. Dick tried to remind himself that in addition to being exhausted himself, Bruce was probably feeling frustrated with the way the investigation itself was going.

Dick had gone through a lot of emotional turmoil today, from finding out Bruce's secret to being plunged into a world that was completely foreign to him. He simply didn't know how to handle this – the worry over Bruce's well-being and how to help his guardian with everything that he constantly dealt with. At least, he didn't know how to handle it the way Alfred did. Not yet, anyway. Not to mention, Dick was up far past his bedtime, which didn't help matters any. Perhaps they both needed some time to cool off.

"Look," Dick sighed, "maybe we should just continue this in the morning. We're tired and we're irritable and…"

"You know I don't like to leave things like this," Bruce interrupted.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Dick muttered, remembering all the times Bruce had left in the middle of something to tend to the beckoning Batphone.

"Dick…" Bruce tried, but his voice trailed off. He seemed like he simply didn't know what to say anymore, and neither did Dick for that matter.

"I just want to go to sleep," Dick muttered. Haphazardly pulling off his bathrobe and throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of his chair, he laid down in bed and pulled the covers tightly around himself. He turned over, his back to Bruce, hoping that that would get the message across that this conversation was over.

Bruce didn't leave right away. He waited awkwardly, perhaps trying to think of something to say, or simply just waiting for Dick to change his mind. After nearly a minute, Dick heard his guardian leave the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a _snap._

Dick didn't know why, but almost immediately, he felt tears springing up in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to stave them off and wishing for sleep to claim him, but it didn't help. The tears escaped his eyelids, dripping down his nose and cheeks to pool on his pillow.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the Riddler's coffin clue popped up in his mind again, which only served to make Dick cry harder. As much as Bruce had tried to brush it off, it made Dick terrified for his guardian.

In reality, it held much more significance than either of them could have imagined.

_What could the Riddler have in store for our beloved heroes?  
__Will they be able to overcome this recent turn of events in their relationship?  
__Or will they destroy themselves just as surely as the Riddler is trying to do?_

_For the answers to these and other horrifying questions,  
__Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_Until then, hold onto your seats, Batfans!_


	5. Chapter 5: Love's Power

_When we last Wayne Manor, the night hadn't ended so well for our beloved heroes. Bruce had returned from a frustrating and unfruitful search for the Riddler only for an argument to erupt between him and Dick. Will they be able to work things out?_

_The answer is moments away!_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 5 – Love's Power

Dick must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by a strong and firm hand on his shoulder. Still feeling groggy from his brief nap, Dick slowly rolled over onto his back. He rubbed at his eyes to see Bruce standing over his bed.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't sleep," Bruce said quietly. "Not with the way we left things."

Dick furrowed his brow and bit at his bottom lip. Was it a bad thing that he had fallen asleep so quickly and easily when Bruce had apparently been left tossing and turning?

"You were tired," Bruce said, immediately picking up on Dick's expression. "I know. Don't worry about it." Bruce didn't say anything more, but he quietly sat down on the edge of Dick's bed, watching him closely.

Dick realized how much better he felt about everything. He supposed he really had been exhausted to have been so short with Bruce before. Even his short nap seemed to put everything into perspective for him, and he suddenly regretted the tone he had taken with his mentor earlier.

"Bruce," Dick tried, "I'm sorry-"

Bruce silenced him with a soft finger against Dick's lip. "I know," Bruce said. "I know how upset you must have been feeling to say those things. But please try and understand how torn I was. Have you ever wanted to do something so badly, but at the same time, there were a million reasons why you knew you shouldn't? That's what I was going through. I _wanted_ to be honest with you, but I was afraid of _so many things_. I didn't know how you were going to react. I didn't want to worry you or weigh you down with all the stress that inevitably comes along with this kind of knowledge." Bruce paused for a long time before he quietly added, "I didn't want to put you in danger."

Bruce's speech had softened him further, and Dick was really beginning to feel bad for the attitude he had given Bruce.

Swallowing hard, Dick asked, "Why would I be in danger?"

"This kind of knowledge begets that," Bruce said solemnly, nodding. "You now possess something very important, something that a lot of people in this city would pay or kill to have." Bruce's stare didn't move, didn't waver. "You know the identity of Batman. That's one of the most important and critical things I could ever tell someone. Something that I've only ever shared with Alfred before."

Dick had never thought of it like that. It had never occurred to him that what he now knew was so important and priceless. That Bruce had to trust him whole-heartedly to even _think_ about entrusting him with such information. That this very obviously made Dick one of the most important people in Bruce's life. Bruce had already said as much, of course, but Dick was still having a bit of a hard time wrapping his head around it all.

Dick supposed he was still hung up on the fact that he never thought that he would have anything like this ever again – this significant relationship with an adult. Plus, the fact that Bruce really had no obligation to provide him with _anything_ made it even more difficult to grasp. What on earth had Dick ever done to deserve someone like Bruce taking him under his wing like this?

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Dick whispered again, closing his eyes momentarily in embarrassment. A soft breath of air passed between his lips before he said, "I was being awfully juvenile about all of this, aren't I?"

"You are a juvenile," Bruce stated, his tone slightly teasing. "It's to be expected."

That caused Dick to smirk the tiniest bit. Just that one little line, Bruce's joking manner, let Dick know that things were all right again. That there were not and should not be any hard feelings between them, because Bruce had already forgiven him without even needing to be asked. Bruce did that a lot – forgave him easily. That wasn't to say that Bruce was lenient or a pushover. Bruce was strict, but he was never mean about and he never made Dick feel small or bad about the way he sometimes acted. Bruce knew when Dick was sorry for something he'd done, and Bruce wouldn't hesitate to forgive when that time came.

"But I don't blame you for it," Bruce said after a moment of silence. "Not in the least. You've just discovered an earth-shattering secret. I imagine that this is going to require some adjustment on your part, and…you're right. I haven't really given much thought to how it's affecting you. I knew you'd worry, but…maybe not quite this much." Bruce gestured towards Dick's bed. "I didn't imagine you'd be up all night, scared half to death. I…almost expected you to be automatically okay with it and carried on with my daily business. That didn't help any, did it?"

"You couldn't really help it," Dick said, frowning in thought. "The Riddler is out there. You couldn't exactly tell him to wait a minute while you sort things out with your ward."

"No," Bruce agreed, "but perhaps I could have been a bit more sensitive. We only talked about it for a short while before I ran out on you again, and when I did come back, I only gave you a hard time about everything you must have been feeling. But believe me, Dick – I never wanted to hurt you in all of this." Bruce stopped for a moment, taking a long, deep breath before continuing. "All I've ever wanted was to protect you. To protect you from the stress that this would inevitably cause. To protect you from any danger that this could possibly place you in. To keep you from wanting to do something as risky with your own life."

"Hypocrite."

"Yes," Bruce admitted, "I am. But perhaps you're forgetting something."

"What's that?" Dick asked, staring up at him.

"What any parent wants for their child," Bruce said. "For them to be safe. And you are my son. We've already covered that, I believe."

Dick didn't know if he'd ever get used to Bruce calling him that. Try as he might, it was nearly impossible for him to believe that Bruce thought so highly of him. That Bruce wanted to fulfill that role of father for him as much as Dick wanted him to fill it. That even though Bruce had absolutely no obligation to do any of this, that he still did so, that he still _wanted_ to do so. Dick supposed that that was the problem that he was having the hardest time grasping – why would Bruce _want_ to do this if he didn't have to? The very idea seemed just beyond his comprehension.

Dick found that he didn't quite have it in him to respond. His mind was whirling with everything that had been said, and every emotion he had felt that day seemed to gather somewhere in his insides. It was making his stomach feel like it had butterflies in it, while his chest and throat felt very tight and full. Trying to swallow the feeling away, Dick simply stared off across the room, trying to process everything.

"Dick?" Bruce asked, concern ebbing at his voice.

"I just…" Dick tried, but he found he couldn't get anything more out. He took a few deep breaths, trying to make the feeling go away. At the same time, though, he almost enjoyed it. It felt…nice.

Bruce didn't attempt to pry anything else from him just then; he had decided to let Dick go at his own pace.

Dick only stared at his still darkened window for a while, searching inside himself for the words that he knew were there. When it came right down to it, however, there was only one way he could think of putting it. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, turning his head and looking up at his guardian questioningly.

"What's that?" Bruce asked. "Why am I Batman? Why do I feel the need to chase after completely insane criminals?"

"No," Dick replied, frowning. "I guess I can see why you do that. That's not what I meant." Dick was aware that they were getting into very private and overly sentimental territory here, but Bruce would never let it go now. Not when he knew that there were questions that Dick wanted the answers to so badly. "This," Dick said next, gesturing between them. "I'm well aware of the fact that you didn't have to take me in. That you don't have to let me stay here."

"I thought I'd answered that when you came to live with me," Bruce said softly. "If you know why I'm Batman, then I'd wager to guess that you know the answer to this too."

Dick didn't reply. He simply stared up into the comforting eyes of his guardian, waiting.

"Because I see so much of myself in you," Bruce finally answered. "Because what happened to you – what happened to us – isn't right, and you deserve to have a loving family just as much as I did. I don't know where I'd be right now if it hadn't been for Alfred. He saved me – in more ways than one – and…I just wanted to be that for someone else. When I found out what happened to your parents – I don't know. Something inside made me want to do it."

"'Made you'?" Dick echoed.

"I didn't mean it like that," Bruce immediately corrected him. "I don't mean to say that I felt obligated to do it by any means." He stopped, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before pressing on. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that…I wanted to be to someone what Alfred was to me. Alfred was – _is_ – the world to me. He changed my life in so many ways that I can't even begin to describe. I…was just hoping to change someone's world too. I just…wanted to. That's the best way I can explain it."

Dick still didn't say anything. He had so many questions yet about everything, but he wasn't quite sure how to ask them. He wasn't even sure that Bruce could answer them satisfactorily for his liking.

"And well…" Bruce began again, but then he cut himself off. He hesitated, seemingly not quite sure if he should be completely open with Dick or not. In the end though, he went on. "I was afraid for you, I suppose."

"Why would you be afraid?" Dick asked, sounding genuinely curious. "You're Batman, after all. You're not afraid of anything."

"That's not entirely true," Bruce disagreed.

"Well, I always thought Batman was the bravest person in the world," Dick told him. He turned onto his side, facing Bruce more fully. Perhaps for the first time, it occurred to him that he was talking to a real live superhero. He had heard so much about Batman on the news and had always thought he sounded incredible. And here he was, sitting in Dick's very room! It was still strange imagining that his Bruce was the one that had done all those amazing things.

"I like to think I'm brave," Bruce agreed, "but that doesn't mean I'm not afraid of things. Does it scare me to go up against criminals like the Riddler, and the Joker, and the Penguin, and Catwoman? Absolutely. But…there's something else that's much more important than that fear – the safety and well-being of Gotham's citizens. And…well, you."

"You didn't even know me until a few short years ago."

"But I felt like I did," Bruce said. "Like I said, I saw so much of myself in you. Everything that had happened to you seemed to be such a reflection of everything I had been through. And I just didn't want you to go down the road I almost did."

Propping him up on his elbow, Dick watched Bruce intently. "Which road is that?" he asked.

"One filled with anger and hate," Bruce told him. "I didn't just spontaneously decide to become Batman, you know. It was a very long road filled with so much negativity. I was originally hell-bent on revenge. I wanted nothing more than to find the people responsible for killing my parents and…repay the favor."

"You mean kill them."

"Yes."

"And did you?"

"No," Bruce said, "but it wasn't because I didn't want to or because I never had the opportunity."

"What stopped you?"

"Alfred," Bruce answered solemnly. His voice sounded very far away, like he was remembering some long ago memory and was almost afraid of disrupting it. "He talked some sense into me. He talked to me so many times about what he knew my parents would have wanted for me. He told me under no circumstances would they have wanted me to become a murderer, even to avenge them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. They wouldn't have wanted me to stoop to that level, to become the very thing that I knew they had always hated about mankind."

Bruce stopped, taking a moment to turn and stare out of the window, at the almost blackness of the sky beyond. "My parents were good people," Bruce finally said, turning back to Dick once more. "They never understood how people could be so cruel to each other. How people could commit murders and go on with their daily lives like nothing had happened. They wouldn't have wanted that for me. I remember all the times they sat me down and told me that they didn't care what I did with my life, just as long as I was a good person." Bruce broke off for a moment, staring down at his shoes and shaking his head. "Killing someone didn't fit into that. Even if I was doing what I thought was right to…balance things out, they wouldn't have approved.

"If anyone knew my parents, it was Alfred, and he knew that as much as I did. They would not have been happy with or proud of me if I had gone out, killed someone, and then simply gone on with my daily life like everything was fine. They would have been so disappointed and unhappy. Once I realized that…it wasn't an option. It just wasn't."

"What led you to the idea of being Batman?" Dick asked curiously. "You didn't just go from wanting to murder your parents' killers to wanting to be a vigilante overnight."

"No," Bruce said, "it was a bit of a long road." Bruce took a moment to consider his answer before he went on. "I suppose I hated seeing all the violence that went on, just like what had happened to my parents, and not being able to do anything about it. I hated seeing other people, other children become victims just like I had. The way they lost everything in a split second because of other people's own hatred or just plain ignorance." Bruce glanced down at Dick solemnly.

"Like me," Dick said quietly.

Bruce laid a hand of Dick's shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

"I couldn't…allow it anymore," Bruce went on. "Especially when it seemed like no one else in Gotham was going to put a stop to it. The violence here kept getting worse, and the police department tries the best they can, but there is only so much they can do. I remember how angry I used to get over it, and Alfred told me one day, 'You can continue to be angry about it, or you can do something about it.' So I did," he finished with a small smile.

"Were you afraid that I would become like that?" Dick asked. He had inched closer to Bruce on the bed, and he was watching him so intently that Bruce might have been the most important on the earth in that moment. And perhaps he was. "That I would want to go out and hunt down my parents' murderers?"

Bruce closed his mouth, tilting his head back and forth several times. "Not entirely, no," Bruce disagreed. "It crossed my mind, of course, but what really weighed on my mind was your anger. The way you would simply lash out at me and Alfred for seemingly no reason. Well," Bruce suddenly corrected himself before Dick could argue, "you did have a reason. I didn't mean to imply that you didn't. But it was the way you got angry at the two of us for small and unrelated things. I just wanted to make sure that you had an outlet for that anger before you took it out on the wrong person."

"At school, you mean?"

"Yes," Bruce replied. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't get into fights at school after I lost my own parents. Oftentimes, my classmates didn't do anything to earn my wrath, but they got it anyway. I simply took things out on them because they were there. I didn't want you to get wrapped up in a vicious cycle of bullying."

"I guess I took it out on you and Alfred a lot," Dick admitted apologetically, "because you were there. It needed to come out somewhere."

"Think nothing of it," Bruce told him firmly. His hand was still on Dick's shoulder. He had left it there, and Dick did nothing to shake it off. Bruce was always fond of these moments when he could feel himself and Dick growing closer, and Dick didn't try to stop it or change the subject. He was a teenager, after all. He often seemed to become uncomfortable when things got too personal. More and more though, Dick seemed simply contented when things took this turn.

Encouraged, Bruce squeeze Dick's shoulder momentarily, giving it a small shake. "It's quite all right, chum," Bruce said. "It's what we were here for."

"Not for me to be a jerk to," Dick disagreed. "Not when you took me in out of the goodness of your heart."

Bruce considered this before he said, "Yes." When Dick gave him a questioning – and almost horrified – expression, Bruce smiled. "That's exactly what I had intended. What I wanted. I told you, if you didn't take it out on us, you were going to find somewhere else to expend that anger. It would either be on the kids at school, or you were going to go out there to try and find some other outlet for it." He nodded towards the window. "I thought that right here with me and Alfred would be the best and safest place for you to spend that wrath."

Dick hung his head, his face screwing up in sadness. Without warning, he suddenly pushed himself up off the mattress and flung himself into Bruce's chest, burying his head. It almost caught Bruce off guard, because it wasn't often that Dick made these intimate kinds of gestures himself. Usually, it was Bruce that initiated them, and it would be a game to see if Dick accepted it or not. This was the first time Bruce could recall that Dick actively made such a gesture on his own.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Dick suddenly apologized, his voice teetering on the edge of being shaky.

"Dick…" Bruce began, but he wasn't quite sure what to say. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Dick's shoulders, pulling him closer. He waited, wondering if Dick would push away from him. Almost miraculously, Dick only seemed to deflate almost. He drew even closer to Bruce if that was possible, allowing himself to be encompassed in Bruce's arms.

"Dick…" Bruce tried again, but words kept failing him. This was one of the few times when he was lost for words. He really had no idea what was going through Dick's mind or why he suddenly seemed so emotional, so Bruce really had no idea how to go about comforting him.

The first thing Bruce did say, however, was, "You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you hear me, Dick? Nothing."

"When I think about some of the things I said to you," Dick said around a loud gulp of air. "Even just now, this stupid fight-"

"Shh," Bruce quickly hushed him, pressing his lips to Dick's head in a kiss. "I didn't understand. I didn't see how difficult this was for you. You're right, it was a stupid fight, but I didn't exactly help it, did I? The last thing you needed after waiting up all night was to be scolded."

"It's not just that," Dick said, his voice still shaky. "It was a lot of the things I've said to you since I've come here. All those times I got angry at you and screamed that you're not my father. So stupid."

"Completely understandable," Bruce cut him off before he could finish. "I'm not your father."

"But you've been nothing but amazing to me." Dick finally looked up at his guardian, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks tear-streaked. "You and Alfred both. Maybe a little gratitude on my part would have been better than throwing all of this back in your face."

"You did nothing of the sort," Bruce insisted. He let go of Dick, using his thumbs to wipe away the wetness from his young ward's face. "I told you, you were angry. I fully expected that when I took you in. I would have been shocked if you hadn't displayed some degree of rage. Having been my guardian through my own loss, Alfred was fully prepared for it as well. You did nothing wrong."

"Even so," Dick said, wiping quickly at his nose, "I really need to tell you something."

"Hm?"

"Thank you," Dick gulped out. "For taking me in. Despite what I've said to you in the past, you really were a father to me when I desperately needed one, even though I wouldn't admit it."

This earned a small smile from Bruce. "You know, Dick," he said over the young boy's sniffles, "you always act like I did such a great thing for you, but…I don't think you realize just how much you've done for me in return."

Dick stared at him, not quite sure what on earth Bruce could be getting at. "What could I have ever done for you?" Dick asked, sounding incredulous.

"I told you," was all that Bruce said at first. When Dick kept looking up at him questioningly, Bruce replied, "You've become my son. That may not seem like a lot to you, but believe me when I say that you've filled a void that has been present in my life for far longer than I care to admit. I'd wanted children for as long as I can remember, but it never seemed like an option. I will never date or marry, because I consider myself married to my work. I wouldn't have the time to devote to a relationship that it would need to flourish. Nor would I have the time for a baby. I'd have to leave it with Alfred and Aunt Harriet a lot. Perhaps even hire a nanny." Bruce shook his head sadly. "I wouldn't want to leave a child to be raised by someone else who probably would barely even recognize me half the time."

"So you take me in instead," Dick pointed out. His voice was hovering on joking, but Bruce didn't seem entirely sure.

"You're hardly a baby," Bruce said firmly. "You're at the age where you're more or less able to take care of yourself." Bruce hung his head, staring down at his free hand in his lap. "And…well, I told you." When he raised his gaze, it was to stare unwaveringly into Dick's eyes. "When I took you in, I never expected our relationship to take the turn it has. Giving you a place to live and leaving you with Alfred…seemed like enough. You weren't my child, so I didn't think I'd have to spend all that much time with you." Bruce broke off, tilting his head back and breaking the gaze he'd held with Dick. "Perhaps a bit callous, I'll admit."

When Bruce didn't continue, Dick said, "But that's not the way things ended up." His voice wasn't hurt or angry the way Bruce had thought it would be; rather it was a bit emotional and seemingly interested in what Bruce had to say.

"Not at all," Bruce replied, sounding relieved that his words hadn't upset Dick. "You know that. You ended up worming your way into my heart so quickly…I almost didn't know what hit me. Before I could really even process what was happening, I found myself wanting desperately to spend more and more time with you." Glancing down at Dick again, he placed the index finger of his free hand against the underside of Dick's chin. Directing his ward's gaze up to him, he continued, "You have completely filled that hole in my heart – the one I wanted to be filled with a child someday. Believe me, I want nothing more than to spend each and every day with you, to give you all of my time." Around a heavy sigh, he added, "I only wish I had more of it to give you."

"You try your hardest," Dick said. "I didn't understand that before, but I do now. I always thought you were canceling on me, because you'd much rather do something by yourself without me tagging along at your side all the time."

"No," Bruce breathed, steadfastly shaking his head. "God, no, Dick. "Nothing – absolutely nothing – is more important than you are. There isn't a single soul on this earth that I'd rather spend my time with. If I could disregard all of my other responsibilities in favor of spending all of my time with you, then I'd gladly do it. But I can't."

"I know," Dick repeated, sounding even more okay with the current situation than he had in a long time. "You have a responsibility to the citizens of Gotham. Besides, I think you'd be pretty miserable if you gave up being Batman. That's obviously a large part of who you are."

"None of that, however," Bruce said, "makes you any less important. I want you to know that. No matter how many times I have to cancel plans with you in the future, no matter how many times I have to run out to go after an insane criminal, you are still the most important thing in this world to me. Always."

Dick's bottom lip quivered and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I love you, Bruce," he said, reaching up to wrap his arms around Bruce's neck. He buried his face in Bruce's soft sweater again, sniffling slightly.

Dick was suddenly being so physical with him, it took Bruce back a bit. He had never quite seen Dick like this, but Bruce supposed that the events of the day had probably taken quite a toll on him. Dick was curling into him so tightly, he seemed a lot younger than he really was – almost like a small child rather than a growing teenager.

Wrapping his arms just as tightly around Dick, however, Bruce pulled him even closer and began rocking him slightly. "I love you too, Dick."

After a while, the room fell into complete silence. Bruce simply held Dick for a while, letting the boy calm down. Eventually, Bruce realized that Dick's breathing had slowed tremendously. Bruce leaned forward over him, brushing the hair back from Dick's face to find that he had fallen asleep.

At first, Bruce glanced around, unsure about how he would get up with a sleeping teenager slumped over him. He didn't want to wake Dick up; it had been such a very long, hard day for Dick. It had taken Dick such a long time to even calm down enough for sleep to claim him, and Bruce didn't want to disturb him.

In the end, Bruce pulled the two pillows from the head of Dick's bed down towards him. Bruce fluffed them and propped them underneath him, leaning into them and letting Dick rest against his chest. It was an awkward position, and Bruce knew he was going to be sore in the morning, but he wasn't worried about that right now. All he wanted was to let his young ward be at peace. Now that he had found it, far be it from Bruce to bring him out of it.

Bruce held him like that all night long, his arms wrapped tightly around Dick until the sun rose.

_It seems that Bruce and Dick have worked things out, but what of the Riddler?  
__What could he be planning and are our heroes ready for it?_

_For the answers,  
__Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_One word of warning:  
__The most harrowing is yet to come!_


	6. Chapter 6: Sour

_When we last left our future Dynamic Duo, Bruce and Dick had just had a heart to heart. However, Batman wasn't any closer to finding out what the Riddler was up to, leaving the arch villain with a very daunting presence in their lives. Will Batman be able to learn the truth before it's too late?_

_Stay tuned for the very harrowing answers!_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 6 – Sour

_The next afternoon, at Woodrow Roosevelt High School…_

Dick sat up a bit straighter in his seat on the bleachers, craning his neck to try and keep track of the basketball down on the gymnasium floor. It was a very intense and close game between Woodrow Roosevelt High School and Disko Tech.

"I thought you were going away this weekend," his friend, James commented from beside him, pulling Dick out of his intense concentration on the game.

Dick gave James a sideways glance; he really didn't want to be baited into a conversation about this right now. Dick had spent a very long time the night before talking things out with Bruce after a very trying day. He now felt good about where things stood between the two of them, and the last thing he wanted was to dredge through all this drama again, even if it was just with his friend.

"Something came up," Dick said nonchalantly, shrugging. He kept his eye pinned on the basketball's movements down on the court, hoping that James would get the idea that he didn't want to talk about this.

"Something always comes up," James commented. Dick didn't miss the derision in his voice. "You'd think that rich millionaire could afford to spend at least a little time with you every now and again. What does he have to do all the time that's more important?"

Dick could feel himself bristling. It was true, Dick had thought that very same thing just yesterday, but…things were different now. Very different. And he certainly didn't appreciate his friend assuming he was some sort of expert on the situation when that couldn't be further from the truth.

"It's not what you think," Dick said around a sigh.

He was not getting into this conversation with his friend. Not now. So far, it had been a very decent day; he was enjoying the game and he didn't want to ruin it. Dick no longer felt disappointed or hurt by the fact that Bruce had canceled their plans again. He felt that he and Bruce had come to a deeper understanding of their circumstances, and he was letting go of certain things. He knew that Bruce hadn't meant to hurt him, and he had forgiven his guardian for any hurt that he had caused him. Dick knew that if things could be different, Bruce would be up at the lake with him in a heartbeat, fishing by day and watching the stars by night. But this was just the way things were. Bruce had other matters to attend to at the moment, and while none of them were more important than Dick, they still mattered and demanded Bruce's attention. Just as Alfred had said yesterday, Bruce's duties as Batman weren't necessarily more important, just more critical. It couldn't be helped.

In fact, Dick knew that someone's very life may be on the line at that very moment, and he wouldn't want to do anything that might interfere with Batman trying to save them. As much as Dick didn't want to admit it, he knew that that took precedence over any weekend fishing trip he and Bruce might have been planning. Besides, Dick knew that part of growing up was accepting that things couldn't always go the way that he wanted them to. This was one of those times.

Dick had been so caught up in his train of thought that he'd almost forgotten his friend was trying to carry on a conversation with him. A very one-sided and rude conversation, yes, but a conversation nonetheless.

"He had some personal matters to take care of," Dick offered up as an excuse. In a way, Bruce's duties as Batman _were_ very personal to him, so he really wasn't lying or skirting the truth.

"It's always personal business," James said, that same note of scorn still apparent in his voice. "Just last week, you were telling me that he better not make up some dumb excuse in order to get out of taking you fishing." He paused, taking a moment to stare long and hard at Dick. "And no offense, but that sounds pretty dumb. 'Personal matters'? Is that the best he could come up with?"

Dick didn't want to snap at his friend, but he was finding it very difficult to control the temper he felt rising up inside of him. "Look," Dick said tersely, "he confided in me about what those 'personal matters' are, and…it's important. And I believe him."

"Yeah?" James asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yes," Dick replied, "and I can't tell you. It's very personal."

"Is he doing something illegal?" James suddenly asked, almost like an epiphany had struck him. "Is that how he's made all his money? It is, isn't it? He's up to unsavory activities!"

"No!" Dick cried, rolling his eyes. "I told you, his parents started Wayne Enterprises, and they left everything to him. He doesn't have to do anything illegal."

"Oh, right," James said, "born with a silver spoon in his mouth. That's what my parents said."

Dick let out another heavy breath. He wasn't going to get into a fight with James about this. He wasn't. Dick really hated how his classmates all seemed to resent the fact that Dick had been taken in by someone with money – like Dick had had anything at all to do with that. The way Dick saw it, he'd lost a hell of a lot to end up where he was – his parents, his family, his home. It wasn't like Dick was all that lucky when it came right down to it. So he'd been put into the care of a millionaire (who also happened to be Batman). Wasn't it about time something went right for Dick? He'd finally found a new place he could call home with people that he was coming to love like a real family. Didn't he deserve at least that after everything he'd been through? The fact that Bruce was a rich superhero was immaterial.

"He's everything I have right now," Dick said quietly. "Besides, he lost his parents too, you know." Dick was staring straight ahead at the game, but he wasn't really seeing it. In truth, he had long since stopped paying attention to what was going on down on the court. It very well might have turned into a warzone for all he knew. Damn James for ruining one of the good things about today.

James fell into silence next to him. _Good_, Dick thought. It was about time James kept quiet about things he didn't understand.

What felt like an eternity of awkward silence passed between them. It was strange and surreal. Everyone around them was screaming, and cheering, and chatting away merrily while the game raged on below them. The gymnasium was anything but quiet, but Dick almost felt like he could have heard a pin drop at that moment. All of the chaos around him seemed to freeze and melt away into nothing but vague background noise. All that existed were Dick and James and the awkwardness between them which could have been sliced with a knife.

"I know," James finally said, his voice bordering on shame. "I didn't mean anything by it." When Dick didn't reply, James leaned into him, elbowing him playfully. "Really, I didn't. I just…you used to comment about the same things in snide ways not so very long ago, you know."

"Things are different now," Dick said. "We're closer. He's not the millionaire playboy I thought he was. There's a lot more to him than that." Licking his lips, Dick stared down at his lap for a moment. "And he has a lot more on his plate than I ever gave him credit for. He's not just out gallivanting around all the time." Dick contained the urge to snort in laughter. He supposed that Bruce's duties as Batman could be referred to as 'gallivanting' in a way, but that wasn't the point he was trying to make. "He has a lot of important commitments to balance between spending time with me. It's not just all fun and games for him."

"Does he have a girlfriend?" James asked.

This time, Dick really did snort. "No. He barely has time enough for me as it is. You think he has the time for a relationship of all things?"

"Yeah," James agreed, "no girl would put up with that." He snickered. "My mother would kill my dad if he did things like this to her – making all these promises and then breaking them."

"He's not…" Dick began to protest, but then he stopped. Well, technically, Bruce had broken so very many promises to him. Dick knew that, but there were reasons – good reasons – for that. He only wished he could make James believe that without explicitly telling him why. "Okay, yeah, he's broken promises to me," Dick admitted. "But it's not because he wants to. Believe me, he would much rather be up at the lake with me right now."

James gave him a sideways stare out of the corner of his eyes.

"He would!" Dick exclaimed. "Look, I know I give him a hard time and complain about him a lot, but…we were up late last night having a very long talk about everything that happened. He confided a lot in me and for the very first time, we have a new understanding. It's taken us a long time to get to that point, but…he's finally being truthful with me about everything that's going on."

Dick was very aware of the fact that James was watching him closely, almost like he was some sort of specimen in biology class underneath a microscope. James seemed to be waiting for an answer to a question he hadn't even asked, for more information about what it was Bruce was really up to all the time.

"And I can't tell you!" Dick said firmly. "Stop staring at me like a dog waiting for your supper." Dick took a moment to turn his attention back to the game, trying to make some semblance of sense out of what was happening between the two teams. But still, he had no clue. He didn't know who was winning or who was losing. He didn't even know who had the ball at the moment, and he couldn't be bothered to try and figure it out. It had all since long ago blended into a swirl of nothingness and confusion for him.

"Well, then it's got to be something illegal," James concluded.

"It's not illegal!" Dick cried. "Honest it isn't. Anything but, actually. Do you honestly think he would tell me if he was up to no good? He'd want to keep it as hush-hush as possible if that was the case. And it's not. It's just…personal. That's all."

James continued to stare at him for a very long time, but Dick pretended not to notice. It really hadn't occurred to Dick just how complicated it might be now that he knew Bruce's secret. There were so many things he now knew about Bruce, so many more things he now understood, and those were things that he just couldn't communicate to his friends. It wasn't any of their business, and Dick intended to keep it that way.

After what seemed like forever, James turned his attention back to the basketball game, seemingly content to let the subject drop. Dick, however, knew that that wasn't the last time he would be pressed for information from his friends.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't need a ride?" James's mother asked, leaning out of her car window. James was just buckling up his belt in the seat next to her. "Wayne Manor is only five minutes from home. It's no problem to drop you there."

"No, thank you, Mrs. Justin," Dick replied. "I'm just going to wait for the bus."

Dick waved after them as James and his mother pulled away from curb, made their way around the school's parking lot, and disappeared into the traffic on the road. Dick began leisurely strolling towards the corner, where there was a bus stop sign for the public transportation bus next to his favorite bench.

He didn't know why, but he rather enjoyed sitting there, watching the traffic come and go and the people passing by. Dick was becoming rather fond of the public transportation system they had in Gotham City and was very happy to use it when the need for it arose. Bruce always told him how it helped the city to better itself by contributing the small bus fee as well as cutting down on pollution. There was really no need for Mrs. Justin to drive five minutes out of her way and then another five minutes back home when the bus passed by Wayne Manor as it was.

Not to mention, it was a beautiful day outside. It was only the first week of March, but spring was definitely just around the corner. The sun was shining brightly, giving a nice warmth to the still slightly cool air. The birds were out and singing, heralding the coming of the much warmer months. Not to mention, it was Dick's favorite time of the year. Any amount of time he could spend outdoors enjoying it was a gift to him.

It was one of the reasons why Dick had so been looking forward to the camping trip with Bruce this weekend. The weather was improving and he had so been looking forward to spending it getting lost on the sunny banks of the lake, fishing with Bruce. Sadly, it was not meant to be.

But Dick kept reminding himself that it would be his birthday in just a few short weeks. It was on March twenty-first, the very first day of spring. It excited him to think about and filled him with all sorts of hopes about what that magical day might bring.

On the other hand, Dick was trying not to get his hopes up too high. After all, now knowing what he did about Bruce's commitments, he had to accept the fact that things might not always go the way they planned. But still, Dick knew that Bruce wouldn't let Dick's special day pass without doing something memorable to mark it. Even if his time was just as constrained, Bruce would still find some way to let Dick know just how special he was. Especially now, considering the conversation the two of them had the night before, Dick knew that Bruce wouldn't let it go forgotten. Perhaps he might even try and use it as a way to make up for their lost weekend.

Was it foolish to be getting his hopes up so high? Perhaps so, but somewhere deep down inside, Dick knew that Bruce wanted desperately to make things up to him. What better opportunity than Dick's birthday?

As Dick approached the bench and sat down on it, he shook his head, attempting to clear it of those thoughts. Those thoughts that could be dangerous. It was probably best not to think too long and hard about what surprises Bruce had in store for him. All that mattered right now was that things were getting better between the two of them. It was probably best not to let his mind get ahead of them and just accept things as they came.

Dick checked his watch – a rather nice one that Bruce had given him as a welcome home present when he had first come to live at Wayne Manor. At first, Dick hadn't really appreciated it all that much. He had still been so angry about everything that had happened and he had a lot of resentment towards Bruce for some reason. After all, with the way Bruce never seemed to have time for him, Dick only saw the watch as a way that Bruce was trying to buy his love. Nothing more. As time had passed, however, and as the two of them continued to grow closer, Dick had grown more and more fond of the timepiece. Now, given everything that had happened between the two of them, Dick couldn't imagine ever being without it. He wore it every single day. If he happened to forget to put it on in the morning, which he did occasionally, he felt completely naked and lost for the rest of the day.

Dick straightened the watch on his wrist, smiling at the memories it now brought back between him and Bruce. The bus still wasn't due for another ten minutes, but he didn't necessarily mind waiting. He watched the rest of the students while they got in their own cars and drove away or waited to be picked up by their parents. There were still quite a few kids waiting along the sidewalk, chatting away while they waited for their rides.

Dick's friends were already gone, so he settled on pulling his copy of _Animal Farm_ by George Orwell out of the backpack he'd brought with him. More and more, he was coming to bring a book with him wherever he went. Bruce was a big advocate in never wasting a minute, and Dick was surprised just how much of his time was spent waiting – waiting for the bus, waiting for class to start, waiting for Bruce. Dick was learning that he could quickly make his way through his assigned reading for class by just putting any time spent waiting towards the effort.

Not that he necessarily minded the reading, of course. Dick rather enjoyed it, and he had rather liked the books they had read for English class so far during his freshman year. He even thought _Animal Farm_ might be his favorite one yet, and they had read a lot of good books.

Dick had gotten so lost in his book for a while, he didn't even realize that he was the very last student left waiting for a ride. When he happened to glance up from his book after finishing a particularly intriguing passage, he was almost alarmed at how empty and quiet the school parking lot now was. It always made him feel slightly uncomfortable to see a place that was normally full and bustling when it was completely silent and still. It felt so very wrong and eerie, like it was something that shouldn't exist. It wasn't right.

Checking his watch, Dick saw that his bus would most probably be there soon – it was due in only two minutes' time. Hopefully it wasn't running late, because the longer he sat there, the stranger he felt. Even the traffic on the road was sparse, and with not many people driving past, it only served to make Dick feel even more alone.

But he was being silly, he decided. It certainly wasn't the first time he was waiting for the bus by himself and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He had done this so many times on the weekends after games that it had become an old habit by now. Alfred always offered to come and pick him up after any school activities outside of normal school hours, but Dick always declined. And that, in turn, always earned a very proud smile from Bruce, knowing that his young ward had taken to the public transportation system like he had.

Dick didn't know why being there by himself had become to unnerving to him all of a sudden. He always found the empty parking lot to be odd, yes, but he didn't know why it was making him feel so out of place this time. It almost felt like he shouldn't be there. And he didn't want to be there. He was suddenly wishing that he had taken James's mother up on her offer to drive him home, even though he never did. Dick just wished his bus would get there already.

Dick was sure it was simply his imagination, but he almost thought the air had turned cooler. When the breeze fluttered around him, it was no longer a welcome cooling relief from the warm sun beating down on his clothes and skin. To the contrary, it was making the hair stand up on the back of his neck and was sending shivers up and down his spine. Had it really been so chilly that day or was it just his imagination playing tricks on him?

Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, Dick quickly turned around in his seat, checking his surroundings. He saw no one, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He almost had that eerie sense that someone was watching him, like characters in those mystery novels he was quite fond of reading. In the end, Dick supposed that it was a good thing that he didn't see anyone, but at the same time, he almost thought it would have made him feel a little bit better if there was at least one other person in the vicinity. If he didn't feel completely and utterly alone.

There weren't even any cars in sight. Well, except for a sparse few in the parking lot. These probably belonged to the few of the teachers who had come to chaperone the game and perhaps even the janitor who was there to clean up the gymnasium afterwards. Dick tried to remind himself that he wasn't completely alone, because the empty cars were evidence that at least a few people were still in the building. Dick only wished he could see someone, or that someone would come outside.

He would have even settled for a car driving past on the road, but the traffic had completely stopped. The road was also unnervingly empty and silent, like a setting out of some scary movie.

Dick shut his book with a quiet _snap_ and shoved it into his backpack. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stood up from the bench with every intention of running into the school. If he could at least get inside its protective doors, he was sure he would feel much safer, even if he still didn't see anyone. Dick knew that in doing so, he risked missing his bus, but at the moment, he didn't much care. He could call home on the school's payphone and ask for Alfred to come and pick him up. Dick knew that Bruce wouldn't have wanted him to be waiting there all by himself if he felt unsafe in any way.

And Dick still wasn't sure why he did feel so unsafe. He had done this so many times before, and he was sure he was just being paranoid, but something just didn't feel right. If he had learned anything at all from Bruce's double life, it was that he should never take chances. He knew that Bruce didn't when he was out doing his duties as Batman, and Dick knew that he shouldn't either. If he felt uncomfortable, then he wasn't going to stay in that position any longer.

However, he didn't get very far. Just as soon as he picked up his pace to try and make a sprint for the school, his path was blocked. At first, Dick couldn't quite make any sense out of what he was seeing. He had been moving so fast, it just became a blur of green and black in front of him. Dick stopped short, his eyes desperately trying to make sense out of what they were seeing.

It took a moment, but then, he knew. It was so surreal. Or perhaps unreal was the more appropriate word. It was something he had seen on television so very many times before, but he never thought he would actually see it with his own two eyes. It was similar to how he felt seeing Batman in the flesh for the first time. Batman had almost been like a myth to him, like something that didn't actually exist. But just yesterday, Dick had sat and talked with him in the very Batcave itself. Now, Dick couldn't believe that this was happening just the next day. What was becoming of his life?

The Riddler was standing before him – the Riddler whom he had seen on countless news reports and in numerous articles in the newspaper. But the Riddler had never been anyone that Dick thought he would actually interact with. The Riddler was a hardened criminal, and he carelessly attacked people for no reason, but what on earth would he ever want with an unassuming high school boy like Dick?

Was this even happening at all? The Riddler was clad in a dark green suit with black question marks covering it. He was wearing matching green gloves. On his head was a matching green hat with a black question mark on that as well, and on his feet were bright green loafers. People didn't just dress like this. They didn't just wake up in the morning and decide to wear their green question mark suit.

In his left hand, he was carrying a gold cane that was in the shape of a question mark. He planted the end of this onto the pavement at his feet and leaned into it heavily.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" the Riddler asked him, pulling Dick out of his reverie. Then, there was that laugh. The one that Dick had heard in news clips before, but now it was actually echoing in his own ears.

It was all like some very strange dream. This wasn't something that happened in real life. Was it?

Dick didn't answer, so the Riddler continued on. "It's such a beautiful day outside. Wouldn't you like to stay out here and enjoy it with me for a while?" That laugh again. That horrible, disturbing laugh that seemed to work its way underneath Dick's skin like a disease.

Dick didn't even know what to say. He felt like whatever he did come up with, the Riddler would just laugh and mock it, so what was point? Dick would rather not do anything to try and antagonize the Riddler, much less do something that might make him positively gleeful. And that's what this man was – _gleeful._ No human being should be this cheerful. Certainly not when he was up to unscrupulous activities like he knew the Riddler was.

"What's the matter?" the Riddler asked, and this time, he sounded genuinely curious. "Cat got your tongue? Or _bat_, should I say?"

Dick swallowed hard, and it almost felt like a stone had formed in his throat. Surely the Riddler couldn't be referring to what Dick thought he was. That was insane. Wasn't it? Dick was just a high school student. There was absolutely no reason for the Riddler to be here taunting him or to be making references to a certain superhero. Yet, here it was happening right in front of him, as plain as day.

What was going on?

"I don't…know what you mean," Dick sputtered, trying his very best to sound as confused as possible. "I don't even know what you could possibly want with me. Don't you have a lot more important things to attend to? High school students would just be small potatoes for a big time criminal like you, right?"

Dick wasn't even sure where his sudden boldness was coming from. Perhaps it was now that he had begun talking, he wanted to keep doing so in order to keep the Riddler distracted. Wasn't that what the heroes always did in books when they were confronted with the villain?

However, it didn't seem to have the effect that Dick was hoping for. It didn't seem to deter the Riddler in the least. In fact, the Riddler tilted his head to the right, staring at Dick like he was a butterfly being pinned to a display surface. The Riddler's eyes felt like they were boring through him, like they were seeing things that Dick never wanted anyone to see. Except maybe for Bruce.

And then, most horribly, the Riddler began to smile. It began very slowly at first, only the very corners of his lips, but then it eventually grew to overtake his entire face. The Riddler was soon grinning so widely, it was making little creases form in the skin at the outer corners of his eyes. If it grew any bigger, the Riddler's face might split into two. The horrible thing was that Dick could almost see that happening – the Riddler's face cracking open and all sorts of horrifying things pouring out.

A small squeal of joy escaped the Riddler's lips and then he jumped up and down in his place, like he was a little child that was thrilled to death at the thought of opening presents on Christmas morning. But this was a grown man. Adults like this didn't exist, did they? Ones that squealed in glee and jumped around like maniacs?

Dick almost had the urge to pinch himself to make sure that this was really happening. He supposed he had always known that criminals like the Riddler were insane, but it had never really occurred to Dick exactly what that meant. Was this what people like the Riddler did – act like complete maniacs on a public sidewalk in the middle of broad daylight?

How on earth did Batman surround himself with these sorts of people? Dick knew that it was in order to try and get dangerous people like this off the streets, but Dick couldn't imagine ever deliberately doing anything to put himself back in a situation like this ever again. It made him feel almost physically sick simply being the Riddler's presence. Once he was safely back at home at Wayne Manor, Dick knew he would be hoping that he never ran across anyone like this again. How could Batman seek this sort of thing out?

Dick knew that Bruce's desire to do good simply outweighed any fear he might have about these sorts of situation, but it still amazed Dick. He had always looked up to Bruce as someone that was brave beyond compare, but Dick didn't think he had ever really realized until that moment exactly how brave his guardian was. To be able to deal with riffraff like this day after day was nothing short of amazing.

But in the end, thinking about Bruce only served to make Dick desperately sick for home. Why, oh why hadn't he accepted that ride from James's mother? Why hadn't he taken Alfred up on his offer to pick Dick up for once? Why was Dick so determined to do things his own way?

In actuality, Dick knew the answer to that. It was something that stemmed back to losing his parents at such a young age and then meeting Bruce very soon after that. Bruce had always seemed so together and so self-sufficient to Dick, and he supposed that Bruce had to be after the death of his own parents. Even though he had Alfred, Bruce still had to grow up quickly in a lot of ways. The only way Dick thought one could do that was by taking on a lot of responsibilities and trying to care for oneself.

Beyond wanting to make Bruce proud by utilizing the public transportation system, it made Dick feel grown up and self-sufficient by finding his own way home. It felt so childish, he thought, to have someone coming to collect him. Even though Dick knew he was still very much a child and would be for a while yet, there were certain things he could do to make himself seem as grown up as Bruce always did.

"Riddle me this, dear boy," the Riddler suddenly piped up, once again disturbing Dick's train of thought. "What doesn't fall very far from the tree?"

Dick didn't want to give into the Riddler's psychotic games, but the answer escaped from his lips almost before he even had time to process it. Like the Riddler was compelled to spit out riddles, Dick almost felt compelled to answer them. It was what he did. "An apple."

"Correct!" the Riddler shouted, his eyes traveling up and down Dick's body hungrily. "And you, my boy, are an apple." The Riddler opened his mouth, almost as if he was preparing to let out a long laugh, but no sound came out. He snapped his mouth shut for a moment before continuing on. "It's really rather interesting the way that works. Tell me, were you always this vivacious or was it just a recent change?"

Dick could do nothing but blink up at his assailant. He really had no idea what the Riddler was on about now. What difference did it make if he was always like this or not? And why did the Riddler even care?

"Oh, it matters a great deal, you see," the Riddler said as if he was reading Dick's very thoughts. "I was just curious if your guardian's had as much of an impact on you as I think he has."

For the first time since this encounter had started, it occurred to Dick that the Riddler knew exactly who he was. Dick knew it wasn't necessarily a secret that he was the ward of renowned millionaire Bruce Wayne. Quite the contrary, with someone as well-known as Bruce, it was probably pretty common knowledge around Gotham City. At the same time, however, it made Dick distinctly uncomfortable that there were such unsavory people around the city that knew his personal business.

Dick shook his head and immediately said, "If it's money you want-"

"Money," the Riddler quickly cut him off almost as if he was pouncing on Dick. "That's what everyone always assumes, isn't it? That everything's about _money_. Money makes the world go round, doesn't it?" The Riddler paused for a very long time, during which he continued to watch Dick very closely, as if he was trying to guage his reaction for something. "What if that isn't necessarily what I want? What if money was – oh, I don't know – _small potatoes_ to me right now?"

Dick frowned deeply. He really had absolutely no idea what in the world the Riddler could possibly want from him. If he didn't want to kidnap him for ransom, then what was he after? Wasn't that what all these crazy criminals wanted after all – money? Once he kidnapped Dick – and Dick was absolutely sure that that was where this was leading – he could have millions. Bruce would pay any price for him that the Riddler demanded, Dick was sure of it. Because in his guardian's own words, nothing else was more important in the world to him.

"I have much bigger fish to fry right now than just _money_," the Riddler said, clapping his hands together in excitement. A moment later, he formed his hands into fists. "Oh, glorious day!" He broke off, staring up at the bright blue sky from under the brim of his hat. "I knew I was on the right trail." When the Riddler looked back down at Dick, he added, "And you've just given me the proof."

"I don't understand what _proof_ you think I could possibly have of anything," Dick said, dumbfounded. "I'm…just a high school student." Dick gestured towards the large grey building to his left as if it might make something – anything – sink into the Riddler's thick skull.

This, however, immediately made Dick switch gears. "Besides," Dick said, grasping onto what he thought might be his last hope for getting out of this, "are you sure you want to do this here? There are teachers still in there, you know. They may be coming outside any second. And a car may drive past for all you know."

The Riddler stopped to look around at the nearly empty parking lot and at the still abandoned street. "Funny," the Riddler said, glancing casually back at Dick. "I don't see anyone though, do you? Anyway, I'm way past the point of caring if other people see me. And…I haven't really done anything wrong yet, have I? I'm just talking to you. Sure, someone may see me and chase me off, or even call the police, but even they would be hard-pressed to arrest me for simply _talking_ to someone I've met on the street."

Dick shook his head. He began to back away slowly at this. He knew that what the Riddler had planned was much more sinister, was much darker than what he was claiming. A hardened criminal who had done more jail time than one could shake a stick at didn't just strike up a conversation with a child for seemingly no reason.

The Riddler suddenly thrust his hands high in the air and exclaimed, "Besides, I'm onto something here. Something much larger than I've ever done in my entire career. I really couldn't be bothered to care who might _see_ me. In fact, there's really only one person that I care about right now. Sadly, he isn't here right this moment, but that's okay. Once he realizes that you're gone, it shouldn't take too long for him to come for you."

Dick was not going to do this. He was not going to be a pawn in one of the Riddler's sick games. In fact, Dick didn't even know why he was still standing there carrying on a conversation with this sick excuse for a human being. True, there was no one else to be seen, but that also meant that there was no one else to stop Dick from getting away.

As quickly as he could, Dick turned on his heel and began to run. He hadn't been an acrobat for over a year, but that didn't mean he was out of shape. Surely, he was in much better physical condition than a middle-aged man that had spent a lot of time cooling his heels in jail at any rate. As fast as his feet could carry him, Dick sprinted down the sidewalk.

"Grab him!" came the Riddler's booming voice from behind him. Dick almost expected him to sound panicked at the thought of his meal ticket getting away, but he sounded anything but.

Without even knowing what was happening, Dick found his feet leaving the pavement completely. Then he realized that he was flying through the air with a heavy weight slamming into his back. The next thing he knew, Dick slammed face-forward against the very hard sidewalk. A bolt of pain shot through the side of his face, but that wasn't what was so worrisome. For a very precarious moment, he couldn't breathe. It seemed as if there was absolutely no air in his lungs and the harder he tried to pull more in, the more his lungs seemed to fight him.

He knew he had just had the wind knocked out of him. He'd fallen down enough times from the trapeze when he had been in the circus to know that. Dick shut his eyes and stopped trying to gasp for air for a few seconds. When he slowly began breathing again, beautiful cool air rushed into his lungs. He sucked it in and out several times before his pounding heart slowed and he turned his attention to trying to figure exactly what was happening.

Before he could move of his own volition, however, he felt someone grabbing ahold of shoulder and flipping him over. It took Dick a moment to get his bearings, but when he did, he saw two men standing over him, one on either side of him. They were dressed in matching striped shirts and were the Riddler's minions no doubt. Then Dick noticed the Riddler several feet away, slowing making his way towards Dick, like he was out for a leisurely stroll.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," the Riddler said quietly as he approached. "No, my dear boy. Did you think I would be so careless as to let you get away, now that I have you right where I want you?"

The Riddler had reached him, and when he did, he lifted a foot up off the pavement. He brought the toe of his shiny green loafer down on Dick's shoulder, pressing it impossibly hard into the concrete. Dick flinched, squinted his eyes into slits. He tried as hard as he could to squirm out from underneath the pressure from the Riddler's foot, but he couldn't. Dick wasn't sure if he was simply too stunned from having the wind knocked out of him, but it felt like he had absolutely no strength left in him at all. Or perhaps he was simply too terrified to move.

"I still don't know what you could possibly want with me," Dick gasped out, shaking his head as if he was trying to wake himself from a nightmare.

That horrible grin of the Riddler's was back. The green-clad villain slowly leaned forward, bending over Dick until his face was just a few feet above Dick's.

"Plenty," the Riddler, and he sounded like he was relishing the word as it rolled off his tongue.

The next thing Dick knew, the Riddler had lifted his golden cane up off the ground. He directed his attention to the twisted, question mark-shaped top of it. A moment later, he seemed to have lifted some kind of compartment open on it. Then the Riddler held the cane by the other end, shoving the open end into Dick's face.

"Sweet dreams," the Riddler said.

A thick, green, acrid smoke poured out from a small hole in the end of the cane. It immediately seemed to fill Dick's lungs, making it hard to breathe once more. He gasped for air, but it only served in drawing more of smoke into his lungs. He coughed once, twice. And then Dick knew no more.

_Oh no!  
__What could the Riddler possibly have in mind for Bruce Wayne's young ward?  
__Will Batman be able to figure out the Riddler's trail of clues?  
__Will he be able to find Dick before it's too late?  
__Will Dick make it until then?_

_For the answers to these and other terrifying questions,  
__Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_Until then, keep your Batwings crossed for Dick!_


	7. Chapter 7: The Riddler's Clues

_When last we saw our heroic Dick, he had just been attacked by the Riddler. What will become of him? Will Batman finally be able to put the clues together and find his beloved ward? What on earth could the Riddler have in store for our burgeoning Dynamic Duo?_

_Stay tuned for the answers to these and other terrifying questions!_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 7 – The Riddler's Clues

_Later that evening, deep below stately Wayne Manor…_

Batman paced quietly next to the Batcomputer in the Batcave, his gloved hand over his mouth in thought. Alfred stood nearby with a feather duster in hand, but his cleaning had been long since forgotten.

"Something's wrong," Batman said, his tone worried. "Basketball games don't last this long. Dick should have been home by now." He paused, looking up at the large clock on the wall of the cave. It was almost five o'clock, and it seemed like the minute hand was rushing along its course, going much faster than normal. With every minute, every second that ticked by, Bruce became more and more on edge.

"Have you called the school?" Alfred asked. "Perhaps Dick simply stayed after the game to talk to some of his friends."

Shaking his head, Batman admitted, "I didn't, but Dick always calls if he's planning on being late. This isn't like him. Especially now that he knows…well, everything. Given how worried he was last night when he was waiting up for me, he would have called by now if he was able. I know he would have."

"It can't hurt to try, sir," Alfred suggested.

Batman hesitated for a moment longer, but then he nodded his head in agreement. Wasting no time in making his way over to the phones, Batman picked up the receiver for the normal line connected to Wayne manor. He quickly dialed the number of Dick's high school and waited.

After a moment, someone on the other end of the line picked up. "Woodrow Roosevelt High School, Principal Schoolfield speaking."

"Principal Schoolfield," Batman said, "this is Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson's guardian."

"Of course," Schoolfield said. "What can I do for you, Mr. Wayne?"

"Dick was there this afternoon to watch the game against Disko Tech," Bruce explained. "I was wondering if that game had run into overtime."

"No," the principal replied. "The game was over quite some time ago, Mr. Wayne. I think most of the children have headed home by now. I didn't particularly notice any stragglers when I did my walk around the school. In fact, I think the only ones are left are the janitor and few of the other teachers." He paused before asking, "Is there a problem?"

Bruce hesitated, not wanting to worry Schoolfied. "Dick just hasn't arrived home yet," Bruce said, trying his best to keep his voice casual. "I was getting a bit worried, but I'm sure he'll be along shortly. Perhaps he stopped off somewhere for a soda with some of his friends."

"I'm sure," Schoolfield said. "But I will keep an eye out for him and let him know you're looking for him if I do see him. Will you please let me know if you don't hear anything, and if there's anything else I can do?"

"Of course," Bruce replied. "Goodbye." Without even waiting to hear the principal's reply, Bruce had already replaced the receiver in its cradle.

"The game has been over for a while," Bruce told Alfred, resuming his pacing. "Something's very wrong. I didn't want to worry the principal, but Dick definitely would have called if he was planning on staying later or on going somewhere else afterwards. He always does."

"Sir?" Alfred asked tentatively. "If you don't mind me asking, is everything okay between you and Master Dick?"

Bruce glanced up at his butler quickly. "Of course it is." Bruce didn't say anything for a long time, his eyes seeming to bore into Alfred. After a long moment, however, he said, "Why do you ask?"

"I didn't say anything about it at the time," Alfred admitted, "but I heard you two exchanging some heated words last night."

"You heard that?" Batman asked quickly.

"It was a bit hard to ignore, sir."

Batman closed his eyes in embarrassment. "I hope Aunt Harriet didn't hear. The last thing I would want for her is to think that Dick and I aren't getting along."

"I'm sure she would have expressed her fears already if that were the case," Alfred said, trying to assuage Bruce's fears, at least in some small way. "In case you haven't noticed, she is quite an outspoken lady, and she would have at least mentioned something to me if not to you."

"Right," Batman agreed, "and things are fine between Dick and I. We did argue briefly, but we were able to resolve things fairly quickly as well. In fact, we talked well into the night, and I think it's safe to say that we're closer now than ever. Whatever is going on has nothing to do with that. Besides, Dick isn't the type to try something like running away, even if he was terribly angry with me."

"No," Alfred agreed, "I thought not, sir. I thought I'd bring the topic up for discussion just in case."

Shaking his head, Batman continued his pacing. "No, whatever it is goes well beyond that. I'm sure. Perhaps I should have had you pick him up from school instead of having him use the public transportation system all the time."

"You know Master Dick doesn't mind that," Alfred said gently. "He always refuses to have me come and collect him, because it's so much more economical for him to take the bus." Alfred smiled, letting out a small amused breath. "You already seem to have instilled your own environmental concerns in him."

Alfred had been expecting Bruce to at least crack some small smile at this, but he didn't. Bruce was already way too caught up in his concern for Dick to allow himself even a short moment of pleasure.

"Besides, Master Dick can take care of himself," Alfred tried next.

"Oh, I trust him, Alfred," Batman said firmly. "It's other people that I don't."

Both Batman and Alfred were silent for a long time, but then Alfred brought up something else. "I hesitated to even mention it, sir, but…what about the Riddler?"

Batman stopped short, seemingly frozen to his spot. He was facing away from Alfred, but quickly turned to stare at him. "Don't think I haven't considered it," Batman whispered.

Alfred nodded. "Since you seemed fairly certain that the Riddler was planning something large, perhaps Master Dick has something to do with that. After all, you can't get much grander than the young ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne."

Batman didn't reply right away; he simply stared at his butler. "You think he may have kidnapped Dick for ransom?"

Alfred raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just tossing out ideas."

"Good heavens," was all that Bruce could think of to say right away. Pressing his hand over his mouth again, he seemed to think about this for several moments. "It hadn't even crossed my mind that that might be the reason. I was so worried about Dick, I wasn't even thinking about the Riddler's motives. As it stands, I've always managed to keep Dick sheltered from that, but…you very well may be right, Alfred. Now that you mention it, I'm actually surprised that none of my arch criminals have tried such a stunt before. I guess that's why I never really thought about it before now – it was never an issue. Rather shortsighted of me." Batman began wringing his hands together, but then he said, "But we're getting ahead of ourselves aren't we? There's no reason to believe that Dick has met with foul play."

Alfred didn't reply and he didn't need to. They both knew that Batman was grasping at straws, clinging to that last bit of dangling hope that nothing horrible had happened to Dick. The truth of the situation, however, hung over them like a huge weight pressing down on them. Dick was very responsible, and as Batman had already pointed out, he wouldn't simply disappear like this without any word as to where he was. No, if they hadn't heard from Dick by now, it was because something – or someone – was stopping him from contacting them.

Almost like it was answering their question, the Batphone started beeping and flashing. Batman exchanged a concerned expression with Alfred before he stepped over to the desk and picked up the receiver.

"Yes, Commissioner?" Batman asked.

"We have strange news coming from Woodrow Roosevelt High School, Batman," came Commissioner Gordon's voice on the other end of the line.

Bruce's heart leapt up into his throat. It was almost too difficult for him to speak, but he pressed on. "Oh, no," was all he could get out, however.

"It seems that the Riddler has struck there now too," the commissioner said.

"What's happened?" Batman demanded, wrapping his free hand tightly around the cord of the phone. As afraid as he was for Dick, there was really only one thing that mattered in that instant – finding out what else the Riddler was up to so he could put a stop to these shenanigans once and for all. If Dick was at the bottom of this – and it seemed more and more likely that he was – then he was determined to kill two birds with one stone.

"The Riddler is calling you out, Batman," Commissioner Gordon answered. "One of the teachers was just leaving the school after the game against Disko Tech this afternoon. At first, she simply thought that one of the students had dropped their backpack. It was found on the sidewalk outside of the school. But upon closer inspection, she also found a very conspicuous note that's very obviously from the Riddler. It's addressed to you with only a large question on the envelope. Principal Schoolfield called me just a moment ago to inform me of this."

Even though Alfred could only hear one half of the conversation, Bruce gave his dear friend a very solemn look. Alfred seemed to know exactly what this meant, however; he never had a problem reading his employer's facial expression, and Alfred's own became very drawn in that instant.

"Do they know who the backpack belongs to?" Batman asked, closing his eyes and holding his breath for the answer.

"No," the commissioner said. "They looked through it, but they didn't find any uniquely identifying information in it. Simply items one would expect to find in any high school student's bag."

Batman rubbed his gloved hand over his eyes as if he was trying to awake from a nightmare. One thing he did know for sure was that Dick always took his backpack with him to games; he always liked carrying a book or two with him in case he got bored. Bruce could now picture Dick's lonely bright red backpack laying abandoned on the sidewalk of the school after something unscrupulous had happened to him. Batman was trying not to let his mind get ahead of himself, but it was difficult when he was already so consumed with worry about his young ward.

Batman paused for a very long time before he said, "I think I know what this may be about, Commissioner." Batman still didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was finding it hard not to. The Riddler had been taunting him so much, Batman had known all along that he was planning something huge. Perhaps this was it, and with Dick already missing in action, it was much too big of a coincidence to ignore.

"Tell me," Batman asked, "is the note the Riddler left still at the school?"

"Yes, of course," the commissioner replied. "I was going to send one of my men after it, but I thought I'd contact you first."

"Good," Batman said. "Don't send anyone. It's probably better if you don't for reasons that I can't yet say. But I'm on my way to the school now."

Replacing the receiver in its cradle, Batman turned to Alfred giving him a grim expression. "It seems your instincts just may have been correct, Alfred."

"Something happened at Master Dick's school," Alfred said in concern.

"Yes," Batman said. "They found a student's backpack abandoned outside of the school and a note from the Riddler not very far from it. I hate to admit it, but I'm sure that someone's been taken, and…all signs so far point to Dick. They weren't sure who the backpack belonged to, but…I have a feeling I'll know as soon as I see it."

A deep frown tugged down at Alfred's lips. A moment later, he reached out a hand to lay it across Batman's caped back.

"I'm almost afraid to, but…I'm going to go see if I can find out more," Batman said hesitantly. "After all, if the Riddler did have something to do with this, I'm not going to find Dick by simply standing here."

Batman turned on his heel, racing towards the Batmobile. When he was halfway there, however, he stopped and turned to face Alfred once more. "Give Aunt Harriet our regrets that we won't be home for dinner." He paused, trying to think up a suitable excuse. "Tell her that I took Dick to the movies and for ice cream to make up for the fishing trip we missed. I shouldn't want her to worry about him."

"Of course, sir."

Without wasting another moment, Batman raced around car and pulled the driver's side door open. As soon as he got himself situated inside with the door shut, he peeled out of the Batcave.

* * *

When Batman pulled into the parking lot of Woodrow Roosevelt High School, he was relieved to see only a few other cars in the parking lot. No doubt much of the student body was at home right now, which meant that they wouldn't be swarming out into the parking lot to see Batman and the Batmobile or to try and find out what was going on.

Batman hurried across the lot and up the front steps of the building. Having already been at the school to register Dick when he had taken him on as his ward, Bruce quickly ran through the halls towards the principal's office. His heart was beating faster with each step, his anxiety about what could have possibly happened to Dick seeming to overtake his senses. If there was ever any doubt about just how much he cared about his young ward, there wasn't anymore.

When he got to the large oak door labeled 'Principal Schoolfield', Batman wasted no time in pulling it open. As soon as he did, he found the principal seated at his desk, mulling over something laid out in front of him.

That, however, wasn't what Batman was worried about. His eyes had immediately been pulled to the large red canvas bag sitting on the edge of the desk. Batman didn't have to investigate it further to know exactly who it belonged to. Bruce had bought that very bag for Dick just this past September for his first year of high school.

When Bruce had seen the backpack hanging among all the other school supplies at the store, it had seemed to be calling his name. Red was Dick's favorite color, and it had been the boldest and brightest one out of all the other bags. Bruce had known right away that Dick would love it, and the young boy had.

Batman hung his head and closed his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the burning sensation behind his eyelids. It was a very important personal rule to him to not show emotion in front of criminals, but this was almost even worse in a way. He couldn't possibly let on exactly how much the sight of that bright red bag was affecting him. This was Dick Grayson's bag after all, the ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, and that wasn't who he was right now. He was _Batman_.

Batman would have absolutely no idea who the bag belonged to, and he couldn't possibly let Principal Schoolfield know that he did. It had never before occurred to Bruce just how difficult it could possibly be to keep up appearances when it got this personal. He had never in a million years imagined that Dick would become wrapped up in his double life, and now that he had, Bruce wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to handle that.

"Batman," Principal Schoolfield greeted when Batman didn't say anything. "Commissioner Gordon called to tell me you were coming."

As much as Batman hated it, he had no time to waste on pleasantries. "He said you had something for me," he said, trying his very best to sound like this was any other case.

"Yes." Schoolfield held up the envelope that had been sitting before him on his desk.

It was rather large and just as the Commissioner had described. 'Batman' was printed out in large red block letters across the top with a large bright green question mark just under it, taking up the rest of the envelope.

Quickly crossing the room, Batman held his shaking hand out for the envelope. He wasted no time in tearing the envelope open to reveal a neatly folded card inside. Batman unfolded it to read:

_**Missing something?  
**__**Trail going cold?**_

_**Riddle me this, Batman:  
**__**What travels around the world, but doesn't leave the corner?**_

_**If you're having trouble solving this, go back to the beginning.**_

Batman frowned in thought. Not for the first time that day, he wished that Dick was there. It seemed like Dick was a whiz with some of these riddles. Even when Bruce was stumped by them, Dick would be ready with an answer that he hadn't even thought about.

It then occurred to Batman that Dick had only known his secret for a grand total of one day. Had it only been a short twenty-four hours? So much had happened since then, it seemed like it had been so much longer. Bruce almost couldn't fathom that Dick had only helped him on a handful of riddles yesterday. Batman had always done all of this without Dick, so why now did it seem like he was missing such a huge part of himself?

Batman's eyes then went back to the first line of the letter: "Trail going cold?" Batman could almost feel his blood boil at that statement. Of course it was, but through no fault of Batman's own. He could normally follow the trail that the Riddler left him just fine. Oftentimes, it was almost like a red carpet rolled out before him, showing him the way. But other times, the riddles weren't quite clear enough. Batman could only go as fast as the riddles allowed him. How dare the Riddler taunt him for that?

Then again, perhaps Batman was trying to make himself feel better for not being able to work things out sooner. If he had been quicker to get the Riddler's clues, then perhaps poor Dick wouldn't be caught up in this mess. Batman could have apprehended the Riddler already, and this whole sick mess could behind them.

All at once, Batman became aware that the principal had gotten up out of his chair. He was leaning over his desk, apparently trying to read the note as well.

Hurriedly folding up the note, Batman said, "Thank you for taking such quick action when this was found. I'll be heading back to the Batcave now to examine this further."

Schoolfield almost appeared to deflate with disappointment at Batman's words. Batman turned to leave, but then he was called back.

"Er, Batman?"

"Yes?" Batman asked, turning to face the principal one last time.

"Don't you want to take this with you?" Schoolfield asked, holding up Dick's bright red backpack. "To examine it for clues?"

Batman blinked, not quite believing he had been so careless. Of course he needed to bring Dick's bag with him! The Riddler could have left something vital in it that Batman would need to solve the case. How very stupid of him to almost leave it behind. Batman made a mental note to try and keep it together for Dick, otherwise he would never be able to work this out.

"Thank you," Batman whispered, stepping forward to accept the bag. His gloved fingers wrapped around fabric, squeezing it tightly, almost as if that might bring Dick back. "It's just infuriating when these criminals feel the need to involve innocent children in their sinister plans," Batman tried by way of an explanation. "Sometimes I lose myself."

"Understandable," Schoolfield said, giving him an encouraging smile.

Principal Schoolfield really didn't know the half of it, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered except Dick.

A moment later, the caped crusader was racing out of Schoofield's office, leaving the principal to ponder what had been said in the mysterious note.

* * *

When the Batmobile roared back into the Batcave a while later, Alfred was still there with his trusty feather duster. When he heard the commotion, Alfred looked up, his eyes immediately going to the passenger side of the car, searching for Dick.

"Any word, sir?" Alfred asked as Batman stepped out of the Batmobile and slammed the door behind him. He had Dick's backpack in his arms, holding it protectively to him.

"From Dick?" Batman asked. "I'm afraid not. I take it there hasn't been any ransom demand for Dick either?"

"No, sir," Alfred replied, "nothing."

"Strange," Batman mused. "If that was what he was after, I doubt he'd waste much time before making his demands."

"Perhaps he's waiting for Batman to…er, catch up," Alfred said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

Batman hummed in thought before holding out the bright red backpack.

"Master Dick's," Alfred murmured, recognizing it as quickly as Bruce had.

Batman nodded, staring down at it. "I've already examined it, and I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary about it. But the Riddler also left me this," he said, reaching into his belt and pulling out the envelope with the large question mark on it. "Hopefully, this should amount into something."

A moment later, Batman had resumed his usual pacing of the Batcave as he mulled over the riddle in the note.

"'What travels around the world, but doesn't leave the corner?'" Batman read. "The answer is a stamp, of course. It stays in the corner of the envelope while the letter travels around the world. A bit elementary for our dear Riddler. But what could it mean?"

"Was there a stamp on the envelope he gave you, sir?" Alfred asked helpfully.

"I'm afraid not," Batman said, holding up the envelope that he had haphazardly torn open. "A famous, priceless stamp collection of some sort maybe?" Batman mused. "Have there been any stamp exhibitions on display in Gotham, Alfred?"

Considering this, Alfred replied, "Not that I'm aware."

"No. Me either."

"Although…" Alfred began again, but then he stopped short.

"Although what, Alfred?" Batman asked quickly, freezing in his tracks. "Dick's life may be on the line. Whatever it is you've got to say, then please do. We're not making any headway as it is."

"I was just going to say, sir," Alfred answered, "that a stamp doesn't necessarily have to refer to a postage stamp. A rubber stamp, perhaps? There's leather stamping…"

"Or…" Batman softly cut him off. He took several steps across the cave until he reached the desk. There, he held the envelope under the circle of light that the small lamp threw on the desk. "Maybe it does mean a postage stamp – or the place where the postage stamp would be." He carefully examined the envelope, searching it to see if anything could possibly be hidden in the paper somewhere.

"You mean like an invisible ink?" Alfred asked, stepping over to his employer.

"Precisely." Wasting no time, Batman raced over to the Chemo-Electric Secret Writing Detector. He pressed the envelope up against the screen which had flashing lights behind it, looking at it very carefully. Next, he picked up what appeared to be a small pair of binoculars, holding them up to his eyes and examining the paper.

"Great Scott," Batman exclaimed after a moment. "I was right. Listen to this, Alfred. 'Riddle me this: When can't a piece of fruit get married?'" Lowering his binoculars, he stared up at the Batmobile's atomic reactor in thought. "The Riddler is getting more and more juvenile as this progresses."

"Sir?"

"The answer is," Batman said, "when it can't elope – cantaloupe."

"Juvenile indeed, sir," Alfred agreed. "It sounds like something Master Dick would have heard in school."

"I'm afraid so," Batman said, turning to face his trusty butler. "He could be rubbing it in my face that he does indeed have Dick. But he doesn't just give out meaningless riddles, even if it was to mock me. He does it because he has a compulsion to give concrete clues. So what could a cantaloupe be referring to? It has to have a larger meaning. A fruit stand or store perhaps? But those are such small potatoes to someone like the Riddler."

"What about the rest of his note?" Alfred asked. He had picked it up from the desk where Batman had dropped it and was holding it closely to his face. "'If you're having trouble solving this, go back to the beginning.' What could that possibly mean?"

"One of his earlier riddles, of course," Batman mused, appearing and sounding deep in thought. "Perhaps one of the ones I stumbled on before, or perhaps one we got wrong." All at once, the light bulb seemed to go on. Batman held up his index finger, his eyes growing wide. "Wait a minute. Maybe Dick was right the first time, and _I_ was wrong." He drifted off, falling into deep thought.

"About what, sir?"

Batman didn't reply right away. He merely stared across the Batcave blankly, attempting to gather his thoughts. Finally, he said quietly and slowly, a sign that he was still lost in his thoughts, "The word for cantaloupe is derived from the former papal county seat near Rome – Cantalupo. The Modus Operandi clue – Dick thought it could have referred to Modena, an area in Italy. I thought it was more likely to stand for molybdenum, a chemical element used in metalworking. It seemed so obvious, what with the old steelworks being closed down."

There was a moment of silence during which it almost felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on Bruce. "Good lord," he whispered. "Could I have been wrong?"

"You did the very best you could," Alfred reminded him, his tone as reassuring as possible. "Sometimes it's hard to know what someone like the Riddler means, even when it may seem to him that he's being as clear as day. The mind of a criminal is often an erratic and chaotic place."

"True," Bruce agreed, "I just hate feeling like I may have let Dick down by not being at the top of my game." Suddenly, Batman let out a frustrated growl that was very unlike him; usually he was quite good at controlling his temper. "The Riddler is maddening! Sometimes I just wish he would say what he means rather than making everything into one giant game." Batman paused for a moment and added, "Like Dick's life could ever be considered a game." Batman's voice sounded strangled at this. He took several deep breaths before he said, "Then again, sometimes I'm thankful for someone like the Riddler."

"What on earth for?" Alfred asked, sounding a bit taken aback.

"For at least leaving hints as to what he's planning," Batman said. "For having the psychological compulsion to leave clues behind. At least when they're helpful," Batman muttered, his hands balling up into fists at the thought of what might be happening to Dick at that very moment. Here he was, trying to muddle through these confounded clues while Dick's life may be on the line.

Alfred, ever trying to lift his master's spirits, said, "There's only so much you can do sometimes." He paused then, wondering if he should voice his next thoughts. In the end, he knew that there wasn't anything he couldn't say to Bruce. "And, well…this _is_ the Riddler we're talking about. In the unfortunate case that Master Dick is his pawn, he's hardly going to gamble that away so carelessly. Master Dick is what he has to bargain with right now, and I imagine he's going to make good use of it. That gives you some time."

Batman didn't quite seem convinced at first, but then he began nodding his head, apparently in a bid to try and hit home Alfred's point. "Right," Batman finally said. "Besides, we're getting nowhere mulling over the fact that the Riddler is a downright lunatic."

Batman paced around the cave some more, and Alfred tried not to think about the fact that it almost made him look like a caged animal.

"Now," Batman said after a while, getting back on track, "where were we?"

"I believe," Alfred said, "that you had just come to the conclusion that your initial instincts were incorrect. The Riddler was not pointing you to the steelworks, but rather the country of Italy?"

"Yes," Batman agreed, "that must be it. Cantalupo and Modena are both areas in Italy. I can just imagine the Riddler climbing the walls, waiting for me to catch on to something that must seem so obvious to him. But what could he be referring to? Any Italian events or exhibitions coming up?"

"There's the Italian food and wine festival," Alfred tried, "coming up next week at the Gotham City Hotel."

"Hm," Batman hummed in thought, but then he shook his head. "Again, small potatoes to the Riddler. He wouldn't stoop so low as to hold up a food and wine festival of all things. The Prince of Puzzlers is much more suited to bigger and better things-" Batman suddenly stopped, his hand going to his chin in thought.

"Sir?"

"That's it," Batman murmured, snapping his fingers. "What else is more suited to the self-proclaimed Prince of Puzzlers than a _crown_? On display at the Gotham Natural History Museum this week is the Iron Crown of Lombardy! It was used in the coronation of Italy's kings since the eleventh century up through the coronation of Emperor Ferdinand I in 1838. It is studded with garnets, sapphires, and amethysts, and legend has it that the crown was formed out of a nail used at the crucifixion. It's priceless. Definitely something the Riddler wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of. So my first instincts of metalworking being involved weren't entirely false, I was just on the wrong trail. I don't know why I didn't see it before."

"There's been a lot going on," Alfred reminded him. "What with Master Dick learning the truth and now with this latest turn of events – you've had a lot on your mind."

Batman shook his head. He appreciated Alfred's efforts, but at the same time, Batman almost felt like allowing himself to believe them would be making excuses. Even if Dick's life was on the line, that was when he had to step it up and be on his toes. He couldn't let the thought of what could possibly be happening to Dick get to him.

"I still don't see," Batman said, trying to do just that, "what any of this has to do with Dick." Stopping, Batman stared long and hard at the phone connected to the main line of Wayne Manor. "I keep expecting it to ring any moment now, and for the Riddler to be on the line, demanding one million dollars for his safe return. But there's only silence."

"As I said, sir," Alfred repeated, "he may be waiting for you. Master Dick might be there, and the Riddler may have something completely different planned than just a silly old ransom."

"I have it, Alfred," Batman said, and at first, the butler wasn't sure what he was talking about. Batman had made his way over to the desk. He placed his hands on the surface, leaning forward and staring down at the phone, as if he was willing it to ring. "I have millions, and I would gladly give it all for Dick. Every single last cent. So why doesn't he just ask for it?" Batman's voice had begun to shake, and he closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

A moment later, Alfred was behind him, placing a strong and comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder. "We'll find him," Alfred said reassuringly. "Remember – you told me yourself once that it isn't in the Riddler to outright kill them without a chance. He always has to make riddles and always has to give them a way out. Always. It isn't fun for him otherwise. It's how he matches his wits with everyone else's. It's how he proves he had a superior mind."

Batman slowly nodded, as if he was trying to convince himself of this fact. "I know you're right, Alfred. I know." Finally taking a deep breath, Batman straightened up and leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the Batcave. When he turned his head toward Alfred, he asked, "You'll let me know immediately if there's any word about Dick or a ransom?"

Alfred bowed his head. "Of course, sir. And you'll do the same?"

"Yes," Batman said, letting go of the desk and turning towards the Batmobile. "Oh, Alfred," he said, turning back to face the butler once more. "I don't imagine that this will be resolved any time soon, so kindly tell Aunt Harriet that it got late, and Dick and I decided to get a room for the night at the Gotham Hotel. That should buy me some time."

Nodding, Alfred watched Batman race back to the Batmobile and speed out of the cave.

"Good luck, sir," Alfred whispered aloud to the empty room. The sound echoed off of the walls of the Batcave, seeming to emphasize just how vacant Wayne Manor seemed to be without Dick. True, the Batcave wasn't something that Dick had been in more than once, but he always seemed to add so much life to the house, even when he wasn't in the same room.

Alfred remembered back a few years ago before Dick had joined them and how hollow the entire house had seemed then. Alfred couldn't imagine going back to that, couldn't imagine Dick never adding his joy and zest for life to the manor ever again. Alfred had always been happy with his role as the Wayne butler, but Dick added so much more to it. Not only had he made Bruce happier, but he'd made Alfred happier too. He'd made the entire mansion a much happier and brighter place simply by being present. The house would seem so dark, so _wrong_ without him.

Dick had brought so much to them. Simply put, he was a member of this family now, and Bruce wasn't the only one hurt by these recent events. He had to come back safe and sound. He had to.

_Is Batman on the right track this time?  
__Will he be able to find Dick in time?  
__Or does the Riddler have something much worse in mind?_

_For the answers to these and more horrific questions,  
__Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_One word of warning:  
__There's more to the Riddler's clues than meets the eye!_

* * *

_Author's note: A thank you to my coworker, M, for the cantaloupe riddle and for him generously letting me use it in my story._


	8. Chapter 8: The Riddler's Ruse

_When last we left our Caped Crusader, he had just left the Batcave to follow the Riddler's latest string of the clues to the Gotham City Natural History Museum. Is Batman finally onto something? Will he be able to solve the Riddler's game before it's too late for Dick? Or worse yet, could Batman be headed for a trap?_

_Stayed tuned for the answers!_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 8 – The Riddler's Ruse

When Batman pulled up to the Gotham City Natural History Museum, all was quiet and dark, which was to be expected. The museum was closed, after all, and nothing else in this part of the city was open at this hour.

Getting out of the Batmobile and looking up at the building, Batman considered using the Batarang and Batrope. He could take it up to second story and let himself in through one of the windows with the Bat-lock pick. Then again, he hated simply walking into places as important as the museum when they were closed. He couldn't help but feel like he was intruding, but when there was a possibility they would be robbed, he knew the security of the museum took precedence.

But then he realized he wouldn't have to open a window after all. There on the second floor, he noticed there was already a window open and there was bright light on inside. The Riddler must already be at work, attempting to steal the crown. Batman only hoped that Dick was up there, perhaps being dragged along on the Riddler's nefarious caper.

Admittedly, it wasn't the best or safest place for Dick to be – in the middle of a robbery – but Batman was currently consumed with the thought of seeing him. At least if he was there, Batman would know that he was okay and he could stop worrying. And then Batman could go about getting Dick out of there and back home where he belonged.

As quickly and as quietly as he could, Batman pulled out his Batrope. He aimed and threw it upwards, and that accomplished feeling coursed through him when it latched onto the balcony that partially encompassed the second floor. He knew the Riddler would be waiting for him. In fact, maybe he would even have a trap ready for him, but Batman didn't much care in that moment. All that really mattered was getting to the Riddler and hopefully seeing that Dick was with him.

"Please be there," Batman said under his breath as he hoisted himself off the ground with the rope and began to climb up the side of the building.

When Batman got up to the ledge of the second floor, he pressed his back up against the outer wall of the building. He began inching forward until he reached the window that stood wide open. He didn't move to look inside, but he hid out of view for a while, listening for any sign as to what might be going on inside.

It wasn't very long before the Riddler's hysterical laughter drifted out to him. "Riddle me this, my acerbic accomplices: Why is a bat like an old person's teeth?"

Only silence met Batman's ears. He didn't hear anyone attempting to answer the riddle, but then he wasn't entirely surprised. The Riddler didn't tend to take up with the sharpest knives in the drawer, and they usually didn't catch on quickly to the Riddler's own unique brand of wit. Even if the riddle was absurdly easy.

"No one?" the Riddler asked, disappointment ebbing at his voice. "You three aren't any fun."

This at least gave Batman an idea of what he was up against – three sidekicks plus the Riddler. Batman had gone up against worst odds before and had come out okay, so this didn't worry him in the least. Not to mention, the Riddler wasn't the best fighter he'd gone up against either. The Riddler's strong suit was his mind and his cleverness, and he didn't excel well when it came to actual hand-to-hand combat.

"The answer," the Riddler screamed, seemingly annoyed at his witless assistants, "is that they only come at night!"

"You really think he'll be here, Riddler baby?" one of his cronies asked. "He didn't do too well with your last string of riddles."

"He'll be here," the Riddler replied silkily. "I made sure to leave him more than enough viable clues this time." The Riddler paused and sighed heavily, sounding almost tortured in some way. "If he doesn't, I may as well just hang up my mask and tights right now. Are there no more worthy opponents out there anymore? Is there no one who can match wits with me any longer? What is this world coming to?!"

Batman wasted no time in making his way the last few feet to the window and pausing on the sill. "I'm here, Riddler!" he exclaimed, holding the sides of his cape out which caused the moonlight outside to cast a shadow on the Riddler and his gang.

Batman scanned the rest of the room with his eyes, but no one else was there. No Dick at all. Just the Riddler and his three partners. Batman's heart sunk at this.

On the far wall, a plaque had been set up which read:

_**Iron Crown of Lombardy  
**__**On loan from the Cathedral of Monza  
**__**Milan, Italy**_

Just below this sat a large glass box lined with red velvet. On the velvet sat the piece de resistance – a shiny golden crown with sparkling jewels of red, blue, and purple set into it. Exactly the sort of thing that the Riddler would be after. It looked like Batman had finally gotten something right.

However, that crown was a secondary thought on Batman's mind at the moment. All he really cared about was Dick and finding out where he was. He reminded himself, though, that he had to be careful; the Riddler and his gang only knew him as Batman. Dick was Bruce Wayne's ward. Batman couldn't appear too attached, except for his plain interest in innocent victims.

"What is this world coming to indeed?" Batman asked, letting his arms drop to his sides. He still swept his eyes back and forth across the room, hoping against hope that Dick would miraculously turn up somewhere. "Attempting to steal priceless artifacts. Taking innocent boys right from their school grounds."

"Oh," the Riddler replied, sounding genuinely surprised. "So you've heard about that, hm? I don't know why I'm surprised. Bruce Wayne does have some clout with the police commissioner, doesn't he? Of course he's contacted you when his youthful ward went missing. Leaving it up to the bumbling police department would be like feeding the poor boy to a herd of great white sharks." The Riddler giggled.

"Where is he, Riddler?" Batman asked. It took a great amount of effort to keep his voice steady and in check. When the Riddler joked so carelessly about Dick's life, it made Batman's blood boil. It was all he could do to keep himself from throwing the Riddler up against the wall and demanding to know where Dick was.

"Don't you worry about him, my fine winged friend," the Riddler hummed, gleefully aware of just how much he was getting under Batman's skin. "He's…in a _secure_ place."

Batman stepped down off the window ledge and into the room. "Bruce Wayne has millions," Batman told him, "and I know he'll pay any amount for the safe return of his young ward. Name your price. Whatever it is…it's not enough. Just tell me how much you want and I'll make sure he gets the message. We can have the money to you by morning."

"Oh, no," the Riddler replied, shaking his head. "No, no. It's not quite time for that part of my plan yet, but it will be soon enough. You see, the boy comes in a little…later. This is just part one. You can't rush greatness."

"Want to bet?" Batman asked.

Without waiting for an answer, he leapt forward towards the Riddler. He immediately started landing punches directly in the Riddler's face and stomach. Batman knew he needed to control himself, and this probably wasn't the best way to find out Dick's location, but he decided that it couldn't hurt. After all, punching the Riddler in order to put him out of commission for a while was what he would normally do in this situation anyway. Batman wasn't giving too much away by doing so at this point. Besides, it felt good every time the Riddler let out a harshly expelled breath of air. With each punch, Batman kept telling himself that they were for Dick. Each and every last one of them.

It wasn't going to be that easy, however. Moments later, the Riddler's minions were upon Batman, each of them swinging at him and trying to get a piece of him. Batman really didn't care about them at the moment. They were nothing but pawns in the Riddler's sick games, and they really didn't amount to much without their ringleader. Batman wished they'd just leave him be and allow him to beat their boss into submission.

As always, the Riddler wasn't putting up much of a fight, but his sidekicks were even less of a threat. Batman punched each of them in turn, knocking them out of the fray for a while before turning back on the Riddler. Again and again, Batman swung at the Riddler without so much as any retaliation from the Riddler. Or if there was, Batman didn't seem to notice. He was in a frenzied state of mind, the likes of which he could only remember experiencing once before in his life. Batman wasn't thinking about much else besides finding Dick safe and sound, and that was the only thing that was driving him.

Then again, it occurred to Batman that he wasn't going to find Dick if he killed the Riddler. Not that Batman even condoned killing, of course, but the thought of Dick being in any sort of danger was truly getting to him more and more. The longer this went on, the less Batman seemed sure that he would be able to control himself. That he would be able to stop himself if it came right down to killing the Riddler. Dick's safety being on the line apparently had that effect on him. It made him feel crazy.

Forcing himself to stop swinging at the Riddler lest he truly pass the point of no return, Batman simply fisted his gloved hands in the front of the Riddler's spandex suit. The material gave way easily under his fingers, so he gripped it harder.

"Just tell me where he is, Riddler," Batman demanded, almost nose-to-nose with his arch nemesis. "Before I do something that the both of us are going to regret."

However, instead of appearing the least bit intimidated, the Riddler's face simply screwed up into a smirk. He began to laugh – that high-pitched hysterical one of his that sometimes made Batman's skin crawl.

"Oh," the Riddler said, sounding painfully patronizing. "But I told you, it's not time yet. Besides, you haven't solved that riddle yet. What fun would it be if I gave you _all_ the answers?"

Using his fists, Batman pulled against the material of the Riddler's suit, giving her a stern shake. "What riddle?"

The Riddler frowned at this, tilted his head in thought, and then shook his head sadly. "You are _faltering_, Bat-brain. Just the simple fact that you're here instead of somewhere else proves that."

Batman's eyes quickly darted to the glass case containing the Iron Crown of Lombardy. It still remained there, safely behind the protective glass. The Riddler hadn't even so much as _looked_ at it, at least not since Batman had arrived. Not to mention, how long had the Riddler been hanging around before Batman had even gotten there? He'd had plenty of time to grab the crown and split, if that's what he'd intended. After all, Batman really didn't feel on top of his game in this current war with the Riddler. He was sure it had taken him much too long to even get here as it was. Why was the Riddler even still here?

Could Batman _still_ have gotten it wrong? He couldn't see how. Before he'd left the Batcave that evening, everything had seemed so _clear_. He'd gotten that feeling he often had when he was finally close to getting to the bottom of the Riddler's scheme – that everything was falling into place.

But the Riddler was flat out telling him that there was somewhere else entirely where he should be right then. Was this crown clue simply a ruse on the Riddler's part? Was he trying to draw attention away from something else? Perhaps where Dick really was? Could Batman have been missing something else, something that was right in front of his face? Could he have been putting Dick in even more danger by fumbling the Riddler's clues yet again?

As Batman had told Alfred earlier that evening, sometimes the Riddler's clues were entirely helpful and instrumental in helping him solve a case. But other times, it left Batman so befuddled and grasping for answers. It was absolutely maddening that everything – even the essence of human life – was nothing but a joke to the Riddler. That he could waste this precious time, doing nothing more than taunting Batman when Dick's life could very well be on the line.

"Riddler," Batman repeated, his voice coming out a snarl. "I'm not going to ask you again-"

"Oh," the Riddler cut him off, "but Batman, how will you know if you don't ask?" He chuckled quietly before continuing on. "I see there's still a vital, _vital_ clue that you're _missing_." The Riddler leaned his head back, staring up at Batman through the holes in his mask. "Are you back at the beginning yet, Batman? Because I don't think you are."

Batman narrowed his eyes. There was that word again – beginning. It had been in the last clue the Riddler had left him. What had that note said? '_If you're having trouble solving this, go back to the beginning.'_ Batman thought he had done that – gone back to the clue where he thought his investigation had gone off the rails. There was obviously something else that the Riddler wanted him to figure out, but what?

Batman felt moronic, almost like a donkey with someone dangling a carrot in front of his nose. Was he really being that dim? Was the Riddler's clue really that obvious? What wasn't he getting? Why wasn't it clicking for him?

Batman was paralyzed by these questions, each of them tearing through his mind at breakneck speed. He wasn't even paying attention to the Riddler himself or the rest of the room anymore. He simply kept replaying the riddles over and over again in his mind, trying desperately to get to the bottom of it. Trying to figure out what it was the Riddler wanted him to know. The other men in the room might not have even existed in that instance, and too late, Batman realized his mistake.

All at once, an explosion of pain tore through Batman's head. It hurt so badly, he began to see spots of white dancing in front of his vision. Batman teetered on his feet, but then he grabbed onto the Riddler more firmly, trying to balance himself. The Riddler, however, wasn't having any of it.

"Get off me," the Riddler said dismissively. "I'm tired of helping you." He shoved his hands into Batman's chest, giving him a push.

Not much effort was needed on the Riddler's part before Batman lost his balance completely. Normally, a fall to the floor wouldn't so much as faze him, but there were still stars popping up in his field of vision. At first, Batman thought he would be able to cling to consciousness, but then darkness began to descend upon him. It was like someone was gradually turning off the lights in the museum wing, but Batman knew that wasn't the case. The blackness began ebbing at the very edges of his peripheral vision, and then it slowly grew and grew. Almost before he knew it, it was overtaking his sight entirely.

With his very last ounce of energy, Batman picked his head up off the floor. All he could see in the near blackness were the bright colors of the Riddler – his bright green and purple suit pulsing like a beacon in front of him. The black question marks seemed to spring off the fabric, dancing in front of Batman's eyes, again making him feel like that silly donkey. But then those black question marks grew larger and larger, finally overtaking everything completely.

* * *

The next time Batman opened his eyes, it felt like the entire world was spinning around him. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, desperately trying to make sense out of the awkward angles that everything was tilting at. His head throbbed from where he had been clubbed, but he tried to ignore that right now; he had much more pressing things to think about.

Batman groaned at the effort, but he struggled to open his eyes again. The light in the room was almost agonizing to look at, causing his head to hurt even more, but he forced himself to do so. That was when he realized that he was dangling some distance off the floor. His arms were constrained above him, and it occurred to him next that the Riddler had suspended him from ropes tied around his wrists. This made him notice the pain that was also shooting up and downs his arms, from his shoulders to his wrists. He hadn't noticed at first due to the throbbing and overwhelming pain in his head, but now his entirely body felt like it was on fire.

"I see you've decided to join us," the Riddler said then, pulling Batman even closer to the surface of reality. "And not a moment too soon."

Batman tried to look down at the floor to see where the Riddler was standing, but moving that much only served to make the pain explode anew. Batman threw his head back, grimacing and moaning.

"We might have clubbed you a bit too hard, hm?" the Riddler asked next, sounding genuinely sorry about it all. "You almost missed out on all of this, and what fun would that be? There's no sense of competition unless you're alive to try and finagle your way out of this."

"And what," Batman asked, trying desperately to buy himself some time, "would 'this' be, Riddler?"

The Riddler's laughter echoed throughout the room, making Batman's ears pound. He really wished the Riddler would stop joking around and finding things funny that were actually very serious. Yes, this was the Riddler's modus operandi, but what he really needed was a reality check sometimes.

When the Riddler finally stopped laughing, he asked, "Care for a swim, Batman? Or a little bite perhaps?"

Using every last ounce of his energy, Batman strained his neck to look downwards. At first, all he could see were the areas of the room near the walls. From where he was hanging, he spotted the Riddler in the corner nearest the door. He was still laughing gleefully and jumping about in that annoyingly exuberant way of his. Batman wanted to tell him to be quiet for a moment.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Batman was able to tilt his head enough so that he could spot the floor out of his peripheral vision. Swim, indeed. There was a large pool of some sort on the floor beneath him, approximately six feet wide. From his vantage point, it didn't look deep at all. Batman didn't think he'd have any problem standing up in it, even with his hands bound. But if only it were that easy. He knew that the Riddler had a much more devious plan up his sleeve.

The Riddler hummed in enjoyment when he knew that Batman had spotted the pool. "Not that threatening on the surface," the Riddler said, "I know, but appearances can be deceiving as I'm sure you're well aware." He paused for a moment, rubbing his hands together and clearly taking pleasure from one of his well-constructed plans coming together before his eyes. "Did you know that the museum houses a family of piranhas directly from Venezuela? I didn't know that either. Not until…recently." Staring down at the pool with a faraway look in his eyes, he added, "I imagine it's been quite some time since they've had a human meal. I'm sure they've missed it."

All of a sudden, the pain in Batman's body seemed to be forgotten. He began struggling against his bonds, desperately trying to loosen himself somehow.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," the Riddler warned. "You see, even if you did manage to break free, you'd be tumbling down about twenty feet into the pool below." He used his index finger to emphasize this point, swirling it around in the air towards the piranhas' direction. "No, the pool isn't very deep, but I doubt you'd be able to make it out before they began to devour you. In which case, you'd be in a world of pain. And not at all capable of rescuing a certain somebody's young ward."

His breath catching in his throat, Batman immediately stopped struggling at the mention of Dick.

"This is their feeding tank," the Riddler explained. "You see, the people can't get too close to the piranha for their own safety. They could lose a finger, or a hand, or all sorts of fun things. That's why they employ this pulley system to lower the food down to the piranha." The Riddler pointed up towards Batman, then across the ceiling and back down the wall towards the door.

Following the path pointed out for him, Batman saw that the ropes holding him were indeed suspended from the ceiling, but it didn't end there. They were threaded through a series of pulleys which trailed the ropes all the way across the ceiling, and back down to a lever near the door. There was a large sign over this lever which simply read:

_**FOR FEEDING**_

"Oh," the Riddler said when he knew that his plan had finally hit home. "But there's certainly got to be a way out." He began smiling like the crazed maniac that he was. "There has to be, because I wouldn't leave you for dead, would I? Not when there's so much more to _find_." Giggling once more, he added, "I'll leave you to mull over that for a while. But perhaps I will leave you with just one more riddle. A riddle a day keeps the Riddler away, after all. And I am feeling generous, and I do take pity on those who aren't on par with my intelligence." Sighing heavily, he said, "You know, all this time, I thought you could keep up with me, Batman. Was I sorely mistaken?"

Shaking his head, the Riddler looked down at the floor, turning away and heading for the door. Before he reached it, however, he turned sharply, staring up at the dangling Batman. "Riddle me this, Batman: What has a middle, but no end and no beginning?" Pausing for a moment, the Riddler seemed to take in the situation, savoring it for one last time. "I imagine you'll have about a minute to figure it out before you are torn to shreds by our little fanged friends."

Leaping into the air again, the Riddler positively cackled. It was disconcerting to say the least, but before Batman could think about it any further, the Riddler bounded towards the door. He stopped, grabbing onto the lever next to it. With one last look up at Batman, the Riddler pulled the lever down.

With a jolt, Batman began descending downwards. He glanced up at the ceiling again, desperately searching the pulley system for a way out. A moment later, he heard the door to the room slam, the Riddler's laugh echoing all the way down the hall.

That was when Batman realized he was alone. He began looking about the room frantically, searching in vain for some way out of his predicament. Then he glanced down at his utility belt, the one contraption that had saved his life more times than he could count. But with his hands tied tightly above him, he had no hope at all of reaching it. No, he had to find some other way out. And there had to be one.

Besides, the Riddler had more or less confirmed that he was holding Dick hostage somewhere. If Batman didn't get out of this, what would become of Dick? As much faith as he had in the police department, Batman wasn't entirely sure that they could handle the Riddler. Indeed, criminals like the Riddler were the reason why he had become Batman at all – because it was too much for them to do on their own.

Bruce couldn't leave Dick alone anyway. Dick had already been through so much, and Bruce wasn't entirely sure Dick could handle losing him as well. Even if Dick did get out of his current predicament, what would happen to him without Bruce? Bruce knew that Alfred and Aunt Harriet would take care of him, and they'd have more than enough money to support themselves, but…Bruce imagined Dick would be devastated. Dick had come to rely on him so very much, and Bruce was terrified of what Dick might do without that kind of support in his life.

He had to find a way out of this. He just had to. If not for his life, then for Dick's. But how?

_Yes, how?  
__How on earth can Batman possibly escape this dinner date?  
__Even worse, how will he be able to find Dick in time?  
__Is it the end of the line for our Dynamic Duo?_

_Tune in next time,  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_Keep hoping until then!_


	9. Chapter 9: Win or Lose

_When we last saw Batman, the Riddler had just left him to slowly descend into a pool of man-eating piranhas. Try as he might, Batman was still not able to find a way out. Even more worrisome, what is to become of Dick in all of this?_

_Read on to see if our Dynamic Duo will pull through!_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 9 – Win or Lose

Batman stared down at the pool below him, his eyes going around the perimeter of it, searching for something, anything that might be of help to him. That was when it hit him – the answer to the Riddler's latest question! _'What has a middle, but no end and no beginning?' _A circle! Just like the shape of the pool spread out before him. It wasn't an entirely difficult answer to come up with, but Batman didn't think it prudent to use what may be his last minute of life to worry about a riddle. Indeed, a circle didn't really help him to come up with a way out. It must have something to do with where Dick was being held, but Batman would have to worry about that later.

Batman began twisting his body around in different ways, trying to see the side of the room that was behind him. Any of the aches that had plagued him before now seemed to be long gone. He was suddenly running on pure adrenalin, and his mind couldn't be bogged down with insignificant things like pain right now.

Batman didn't spot anything in the room that he thought could possibly help him. With his hands tied the way they were, he didn't have much hope of actually getting or using anything anyway. Not even his utility belt would be of help if he couldn't reach it. That was when he realized that he would have to use his feet. They were his only other option.

At first, Batman wasn't sure how he was going to use them, but there had to be something! He was drawing ever closer to that pool down below. In fact, he was close enough that he could clearly make out the outlines of the piranhas swimming around inside. He could imagine them going into a frenzy as soon as he hit the water, their razor sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his costume with ease.

Batman shivered, and then it occurred to him just how much he had set his rope swinging back and forth with his minute movement. He was moving from side to side almost like a pendulum. That was it! He just had to keep moving, start pumping his legs back and forth like he was on a swing, and maybe, just maybe, he could miss that pool when he finally reached it.

By the look of things, it wouldn't be very long now, so Batman got his legs moving. He brought his knees up, almost to his chest, before swinging them backwards, arching his back as far as it would possibly go. He was certainly going to feel this in the morning, especially with everything else he had already been through tonight, but that was the least of his concerns.

He kept repeating this movement until he was swinging back and forth by several feet in each direction. Keeping his eyes pinned on the tank below him, he waited for that moment when he could put his swinging to good use.

Dropping down lower and lower, the toes of Batman's boots skimmed the water with his next forward swing. Holding his breath, Batman brought his knees almost up to his chest again so he wouldn't dip into the water again. And then came his chance. He swung out past the edge of the tank at which point he straightened out his legs again.

He shut his eyes tightly when he began to swing backwards, hoping against hope that it had worked. That was when his feet struck the edge of the tank. The impact was a little harsher than Batman had been intending, knocking the air out of him a bit and sending another shock of pain through his spine. Gritting his teeth, however, Batman struggled to keep his body as straight as an arrow.

The rope kept lowering, but his heels were safely secured over the outer rim of the pool. For now. As the pulley dropped him lower and lower, Batman's back slowly started moving horizontally, closer and closer to the water as time went on. He was in probably the most awkward and uncomfortable position in his life. His ankles were bent uncomfortably, keeping his boots locked over the edge of the pool, while the rope dropped his arms lower and lower, his back drifting ever closer towards the water. In fact, his cape was already partly submerged in the water, but Batman tried not to think about what the piranha might already be doing to it. What they might be doing to him shortly.

Gritting his teeth, Batman bent his knees, trying to pull himself closer to the safe edge of the pool. It worked, but still his back was getting dangerously close to the piranha-infested water. If he wasn't careful, he would soon be dumped right into the tank, the weight of his body pulling his struggling legs in after him.

With the last bit of strength he could muster, he turned his hands at the wrists to grip the rope. Then he relaxed slightly, letting himself fall with the rope, drawing ever closer to the surface of the water. When he was sure his back was about to get wet, he hoisted himself forward as hard as he could, almost like he was getting up from a lying position.

He almost managed to get himself up into a sitting position, his abdomen almost perpendicular to his thighs. But then for a very precarious moment, he felt himself drifting slightly backwards again. Batman tipped his head forward and pulled on the rope, hoping that that would give him the last bit of momentum he would need.

It worked. Slowly but surely, he tipped even further forward, using his lower legs to pull himself to the edge. Finally, his rear end met with the rim of the pool and he was able to fully sit up. He straightened out his legs, using their weight to pull himself even further forward. At long last, he threw himself headfirst one last time, and he slipped off the rim of the pool onto the floor.

Immediately falling to his knees from the amount of strain his body had just been under, he doubled over, his head meeting the ground. He gasped in breath after breath, not realizing how much he had probably been holding it over the last minute or so. Then Batman realized that his arms had almost been deprived of circulation. He now felt the blood rushing back into them, causing them to throb like most everything else in his body.

His head hurt from where one of the Riddler's gang had clubbed him. His shoulders were aching horribly from the strain of being hung by his arms for so long. As the blood slowly worked its way back into his arms, he realized that just about every muscle in them had probably been pulled in some way they were not meant to be. Last but not least, his legs were burning from the effort they had just exerted by almost single-handedly pulling him back over the edge of the pool.

A part of his cape had landed near his face, and he saw it out of the corner of his eye. The fabric was soaking wet, and there were large teeth marks where the piranhas had bitten through the material in places. A staunch reminder of what had almost become of him.

But now was not the time to think about those things. Pain was inconsequential, Batman reminded himself, as was the state of his cape. He had much more pressing matters to contend with, such as getting out of here, finding Dick, and putting a stop to the Riddler's riddles once and for all.

Batman used his arms to push himself up from the floor, sitting back on the heels of his boots. He pulled at the rope with all his might, utterly ready to get out of this deathtrap. The rope gave a bit more, and then he reached for his utility belt, retrieving his Bat-laser. He quickly used it to cut through the ropes and free his hands.

Throwing the rope down at the floor, Batman leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. He allowed himself a few more moments to catch his breath, finding it somehow surreal that he was able to escape yet another of the Riddler's attempts to end his crime fighting once and for all. If the Riddler had ever wanted definitive proof that Batman was the smarter one, there it was.

But this was far from over. Batman still had another life to rescue, and his name was Dick. As much as Batman would have wanted to return home to his bed and sleep for a week until he felt stronger, he knew he couldn't. He would rest when Dick was safe, but until then, he had to keep going. There was no other option.

"I'm coming, Dick," Batman got out as he climbed to his feet and ran for the Batmobile.

* * *

When Batman roared back into the Batcave, he was almost relieved to see that Alfred was still there, currently dusting the Batcomputer. There was nothing quite like seeing a familiar and friendly face when he just been in such dire circumstances, even if it was in the middle of the night.

Even so, Batman felt compelled to admonish him just a little bit. "Alfred," Batman said, stepping out of the Batmobile and closing the door behind him. You shouldn't still be up. It's late. Or early. I'm not sure which."

Alfred paused, his feather duster momentarily forgotten in his hand. His eyes went to the Batmobile, its emptiness telling him everything he needed to know. "I couldn't possibly sleep not knowing where Master Dick is. Would you be able to sleep right now?"

Batman opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it. He stared down at the floor of the Batcave and simply shook his head. "No. No, of course not."

"Or you," Alfred added quietly. "I've been waiting for a message to come over the Batcomputer in case you needed my assistance." He paused for a very long time before he finally forced himself to ask, "Any word at all on the whereabouts of Master Dick?"

"I'm afraid not," Batman sighed, taking a few steps across the Batcave. He was tapping the tips of his gloved fingers together thoughtfully. "The Natural History Museum only proved to be a trap for me, one that I barely managed to escape from. There was absolutely no sign of Dick, and I'm afraid I don't even know where to begin to find him. But I must. And I know the Riddler wants me to. I just can't figure out how he intends for me to do that."

Batman broke off, continuing to pace the Batcave. "A riddle a day…keeps the Riddler away," he said slowly, carefully.

"Sir?"

Batman didn't reply at first, still too lost in his own thoughts to even register Alfred's question. But then, Batman eventually said, "The Riddler told me that, just before he left me for dead – 'a riddle a day keeps the Riddler away.' It's very interesting, don't you think? Even when he doesn't really intend to, he can't help but spill all sorts of ideas about how his mind works." Holding up an index finger to emphasize his points, Batman went on, "As long as he is still giving out riddles, then his capers aren't over yet. When the riddles stop, it's because he doesn't have anything else planned. That's when we really need to worry, because it means he's going for his showstopper. I assume Dick is a part of that final plan, and as long the riddles still are coming, then he isn't quite there yet. He told me as much last night – that Dick was a part of the second phase of his scheme, but it wasn't time for that yet. As long as that remains the case, then Dick is safe. At least for the time being. Until the riddles run out, because that will be when he puts his final plans with Dick into action. Until then, he must keep Dick alive, or else all of his carefully crafted plans crash down around him."

Alfred didn't say anything and he didn't need to. They both knew that the circumstances could change any minute, especially with someone as unpredictable as the Riddler.

Batman let out a heavy breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. "Only years of battling with the Riddler has taught me so much about the way he thinks. His mind is always working, always coming up with riddles, even when he doesn't have a reason to. It's the way he is, the way he functions on a daily basis. And his mind must be an awfully busy and all-consuming place as a result. He's almost powerless to them – the riddles – and sometimes they come out even when he doesn't intend for them to. Even when he doesn't realize they have."

"To your advantage," Alfred added.

In the end, Batman retrieved his Bat-blackboard from the storage closest and meticulously wrote every single one of the Riddler's clues out on it. According to the Riddler, Batman should have enough information by now to solve this case, but they were very clearly missing something. There was nothing else to do but go through everything again with a fine-toothed comb.

By this time, it was edging on towards dawn, and neither Batman nor Alfred had gotten any sleep. Despite Batman's arguments to the contrary, Alfred insisted that there would be no resting in Wayne Manor (except for Aunt Harriet, of course) until Dick had been safely returned. It was a testament to just how loyal Alfred was to them, and how much he loved both Bruce and Dick like family. He wouldn't rest until Dick was safe, nor would he let Bruce go through this alone.

"What could it all mean, sir?" Alfred asked, speaking the question that was on both of their minds.

Batman walked back and forth in front of the blackboard, shaking his head at it. "I wish I knew. Obviously, it's one of these early clues," Batman said, gesturing at the top of the blackboard, "that we don't have quite right. All of his references about 'going back to the beginning' and his final circle riddle prove that. He's telling me to go full circle back to the beginning, but…" Batman trailed off, rubbing his gloved hands harshly over his face. When he looked back up at the blackboard, he asked, "What am I missing?"

Alfred stared at the blackboard helplessly, shaking his head. After a moment, he hung his head and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm just worried about Master Dick."

"As am I, Alfred," Batman agreed, but then he seemed to grow entranced by the clues on the blackboard once again. "If only I could put these pieces together. The answer is here somewhere. I know it is." He began pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard.

After a long moment of silence, both of them poring over the clues, Alfred asked, "Didn't the Riddler mention something about Dick being in another location, sir?"

Batman nodded sullenly. "Yes. About how I'd come to the wrong place. He was so positively _gleeful_ about that. It was sickening. But obviously Dick wasn't at the museum. I didn't need the Riddler to tell me that much."

"But, sir," Alfred said, pointing up at the blackboard. "What other clue do we have, one that came early on, that referred to a location?"

Batman considered this. "Well, the modus operandi was the first one. Again, Dick thought it referred to the old abandoned steelworks, but obviously that was wrong, because it was still abandoned."

"But what if it wasn't wrong?" Alfred asked. "What if you had simply arrived there too early? Since Dick is a part of the second phase of his plan, the Riddler could be planning on going back there to put it into motion. He might be counting on the fact that _you've already been there_ to throw you off the trail. You've already searched it for clues. What purpose could there possibly be to you going back there?"

Batman's eyes widened underneath his cowl as the truth dawned on him. "Alfred," Batman breathed. All of a sudden, everything seemed to hit him. It was almost overwhelming, and he felt like he couldn't quite breathe right for a moment. After several deep breaths, Batman slowly said, "The stamp clue." He sounded lost in thought, but then all at once, he seemed to snap back to reality. "Stamping is a metalworking term! How could I have missed that?!"

"Not only stamping," Alfred said, shaking his head. "Metal has been a common thread elsewhere."

Blinking, Batman considered this. "The Iron Crown on Lombardy!" Batman smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. When he spoke again, he had taken his hand away only to clench it into a fist in frustration. "He wasn't planning on stealing it, it was simply another clue pointing me back to the steelworks. Crowns just don't come into existence, they have to be _made_ first. That's what he was trying to tell me with his final riddle. To go full circle back to the beginning, it would have to be where a crown would originate from – the metal factory where the material was made." Batman sighed, a sound that seemed to release everything, every pent up emotion that had been forming for the last several days. "Why didn't I see that before?"

"It's worrisome not knowing what's happened to Master Dick," Alfred pointed out. "I think it's more than understandable that you weren't quite up to the task of figuring all of this out at once. Besides, you know where to go now, don't you?"

Batman pressed his lips together and nodded. "And I'm not coming back alone this time, Alfred."

Alfred stared up at his employer, the man he had come to see as a son, his eyes and his facial expression saying much more than words ever could. Batman momentarily laid a hand on Alfred's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze before he sprinted back to the Batmobile.

When he left the Batcave, he saw that the sun had begun to rise over Gotham City. The horizon was burning with bright orange and magenta hues, fading to still deepest blue the higher Batman's eyes went. He only hoped that this would be the day that he brought Dick home. That the next time the sun set over Wayne manor, that Dick would be safe and sound in his bed where he belonged.

It then occurred to Batman that Dick had only been missing for barely fifteen hours. It had seemed so very much longer than that, akin to a personal hell of sorts. When Bruce had taken Dick into his custody, he had promised to do everything in his power to keep the boy safe. And this was where things had ended up – Dick kidnapped with Bruce having absolutely no idea where he was or what had happened to him. This wasn't exactly what Bruce – or indeed, the courts – had had in mind when he had been awarded custody.

As certain as Bruce was that Dick's life wasn't quite in danger just yet, that still didn't mean he was safe. Dick was in the clutches of one of the most dangerous and most unhinged villains Batman had ever faced. If Batman had a hard time handling the RIddler, he could scarcely imagine what Dick might be going through at the moment. Bruce knew Dick was brave, but he had never encountered someone like the Riddler before. Bruce couldn't envision how scared Dick must be. How badly he simply wanted to return home.

Was Dick waiting for Batman to come and rescue him? Was he waiting for his guardian to come bursting into that building and take him home? With every minute that passed, was Dick losing hope that Batman would ever come? Was Dick giving up on the thought that Bruce would be his savior? Was Dick beginning to entertain the idea of death? That he would die while being held against his will in the Riddler's hideout while Batman was nowhere to be seen? Would he be disappointed in Bruce at all that he hadn't come through when Dick had needed him the most?

Now that Dick knew that Bruce was Batman, Dick probably had this inflated sense that his guardian could do no wrong. That Bruce would never let him down, because he was _Batman_ after all. If Batman of all people couldn't save him from something like this, then who could? As fallible as Bruce was, Batman couldn't be that way, could he? It didn't make sense. Not that Batman was perfect, but he was the one who always came through when no one else could. If Batman couldn't even save Dick, then what hope was there for Dick?

Feeling more and more pressure to get Dick out of this mess once and for all, Batman pressed the gas pedal of the Batmobile down even further. Even when time was of the essence, Batman still didn't like to drive too fast or too recklessly; it wouldn't do to injure someone in a moment of carelessness when he was on the way to save someone else. When Dick's life was on the line, however, Batman knew he was prone to be impetuous. At least now it was still very early in the morning, so mostly everyone in Gotham City would still be asleep, and there wouldn't be very much traffic.

The steelworks was about sixteen miles from the Batcave. It normally took about a half an hour to get there under normal driving conditions. With the speed Batman was currently going, it shouldn't take very long at all. However, this car ride seemed to go on forever. It might have very well been the longest car trip Batman had ever taken in his life.

He was simply consumed with the thought of seeing Dick again. Of bursting in and saving his young ward from the madman that called himself the Riddler. When one was waiting and hoping for an event to occur, the time preceding it always seemed to last an eternity, didn't it?

At long last, the steelworks finally came into view. Batman slowed the Batmobile when he was still some distance away, not wanting to alert the Riddler and his gang of his presence. The Riddler might even be under the assumption that Batman was dead, that he had met his end in the ghastly deathtrap of piranhas. If that was the case, then Batman would go on letting the Riddler believe that, at least for a little while longer.

Batman crept the car slowly along the last few hundred feet to the steelworks. When he reached the edge of the parking lot, he decided to stop there and walk the rest of the way to the building. There was a line of trees surrounding the parking lot, which would hopefully keep the Batmobile hidden from view from those inside.

Getting out of the Batmobile, Batman quietly closed the door. He looked up at the building that sprawled out before him, thinking about the best way possible to get inside. In the end, he decided to stay out of the large and wide open parking lot. There was absolutely nothing to hide behind, and he would be much too conspicuous simply walking across it.

Batman decided to stay behind the tree line, skirting the outer rim of the parking lot around to the rear of the building. He still didn't know where the Riddler and his gang were – they might not even be here, after all – but Batman decided that this would be his safest option.

Around the back of the building, Batman found what seemed to be a large set of unsecured double doors. This appeared to be the part of the plant where deliveries would come and go with a large parking space for delivery trucks nearby.

Batman didn't always like to sneak into criminals' hideouts using the Batrope. Sometimes a more direct approach would be more of a surprise, especially after last night when Batman had stormed the museum using a second floor window. The Riddler might be expecting that yet again, if he was even anticipating Batman's arrival at all. Hopefully, he was still under the delusional assumption that Batman was dead.

As carefully and quietly as he could, Batman stepped up to one side of these large double doors. He gripped one of the doorknobs in both hands and slowly turned it, then he pulled just a bit. He waited for any large clicking or clanking noise that one would expect from such a heavy steel door opening, but all was quiet. Pulling it open just enough to get his head inside, he peered around the extensive room that met his eyes.

Indeed, it appeared to be a receiving area of some sort, just as he'd suspected. There was an old and dusty forklift in one corner with mounds of wooden crates taking up much of the available concrete floor space. The stone walls rose up high above him, with only one window on the very far side of the room. As a result, it was very dark inside, but Batman could just manage to make out the details with the growing square of sunlight beginning to permeate the room.

Batman let himself inside, allowing the door to click shut behind him. He waited again, listening for any sign that his presence might have been detected. The rest of the building was completely silent. Not even the rustle of a rat or perhaps a bug of some sort.

Batman began taking slow and calculated steps across the room. There was a lot of garbage and debris littered across the floor, and it certainly wouldn't do to make a stupid mistake, such as tripping over a crate. He stepped around the boxes and scraps of discarded steel and crumpled up paper, carefully making his way to a door that he saw on the side of the room across from the window.

When he arrived at this next door, Batman stopped again, waiting and listening before he dared open it. He was getting possibly so close to Dick, he could almost feel it. The excitement was causing his insides to tingle, but he reminded himself to keep his wits about him. It wouldn't do Dick any favors if he was careless now.

Gradually opening the door before him, Batman paused to take everything in. This room was considerably darker than the previous one, and Batman allowed his eyes a few moments to adjust to the lack of light.

"Batman?" came Dick's shaky and frightened voice out of the darkness.

"Dick?" Batman knew exactly who he was talking to. He would have recognized Dick's voice anywhere, but the question came more out of surprise and his own sense of dwindling hope that he'd ever hear this boy call his name again. Or Batman's name.

That was when Batman realized that the window in the previous room was directly behind him, the growing sunlight beating down on and warming his caped back. This cast his shadow perfectly across his young ward.

Batman stood frozen, staring transfixed at this image. He could just make out Dick's brown eyes, locked on his own. Dick's face was scared but still hopeful at the same time, now that Batman was there. The shadow of Batman's silhouette across the boy's body seemed to bring comfort to the both of them. That was how Batman would like to keep him forever – safely in his protective shadow.

Batman stepped further into the room, momently taking leave of the fact that he was supposed to be being careful. He saw Dick now and that was all that mattered. He simply wanted to take Dick out of here and forget that this whole horrible ordeal had ever even happened. The Riddler wasn't even crossing Batman's mind at that moment, which Batman would come to realize was a very, very bad thing.

"Don't come any closer," Dick suddenly said, instantly pulling Batman back to his senses, almost like a magnet.

Batman stopped again, and it was only then that he saw the full extent of the truly horrendous conditions that Dick was being kept under. Dick was lying flat on his back, tied with ropes in a spread-eagled position to a large metal table. Just above him, looking like it was ready to plunge down on his at any second, was a large and heavy metal box of some sort.

The bottom of this box, which would smash Dick flat if it fell, had a large metal question mark shape etched into it. It was a stamping machine, Batman realized, which would permanently brand Dick's mangled body with the Riddle's trademark symbol.

The Riddler was truly a sad, sick individual.

"This room is filled with electric eyes and they're all wired to the stamping machine," Dick explained, nodding upwards towards the large metal box above him. "It's set to drop if one of them is tripped. I'll be crushed before you get to me," Dick whispered, a single tear of desperation escaping the corner of his eye.

"Dick," Batman breathed. This was horrid. He wanted nothing more than to run to Dick, to take him safely in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't do that. Seeing Dick like this, in such a precarious situation, and still not being able to do anything about it was driving Batman mad. He had come so close to find Dick, yet he was still so far from being able to do anything about it.

Dick's chest was heaving up and down with each breath and his eyes were boring into Batman. Dick's expression was almost pleading somehow. Pleading with Batman – with Bruce – not to let him die. It was heartbreaking and something Bruce had hoped he would never see on his young ward's face.

"I'm not going to let you die," Batman said firmly, not even needing to hear Dick say the words he was thinking. It seemed they had gotten to that point. The point that Bruce and Alfred had arrived at decades ago – where they could read each other's facial expressions in a moment, no words required.

"I know," Dick said. His voice had been reduced to little more than a whimper, consumed by everything that was currently going on around him. "But, Batman…"

"Shh," Batman hushed him. Again, he was past the point of needing to hear Dick's words. He knew exactly everything that was going through that boy's mind and more. They were nearly the same things going through Bruce's own mind.

"I'm going to get you out of this," Batman insisted.

Batman began looking around the room, taking in every single piece of discarded rubbish, every single piece of equipment that stood in front of him. Anything that could possibly help him with what he had to do. He could do this. He was going to do this and nothing was going to stop him.

Dick was simply staring at him now. He still seemed scared, but no longer in the absolutely terrified deer-in-headlights sort of way that had consumed him just a few moments ago. That glimmer of hope that had sparked in his features when Batman had entered the room had now grown, seeming to overshadow his fear just a bit. Dick was relying on him. Dick was taking comfort in the fact that Bruce was simply there now and Bruce wasn't going to let him down.

Truth be told, however, Batman couldn't remember ever being so scared in all his life.

_Will Batman be able to save Dick before his time is cut short?  
__Will the Riddler let him?  
__What else does the Prince of Puzzlers have planned for the Caped Crusader and his young ward?_

_For the smashing answers to these questions,  
__Tune in next time…  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_Until then, don't lose yourself in the weightiness of the situation!_


	10. Chapter 10: The Storm's Eye

_The last time we saw our Dynamic Duo, Batman had just found Dick at the abandoned steelworks. It, however, wasn't quite the happy reunion Batman had been hoping for. Dick had been left in a giant stamping device which could be triggered by any one of a number of electric eyes. Will Batman be able to find a way out for Dick before it's too late?_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 10 – The Storm's Eye

"It'll be all right," Batman said, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking. His eyes were focused on Dick, but then something else caught Batman's eye. On the wall across from him, about two feet to his right, was a small, clear, round plastic panel. There was a bright red light glowing steadily in the middle the plastic surface, presumably one of the electric eyes.

"I can take them out with the Batarang," Batman said, still searching the room for more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick desperately shake his head. "You don't know how many of them there are," Dick said worriedly.

"Did the Riddler say anything?" Batman asked, his eyes still searching the room. "Any riddles or clues to give away how many there might be? It doesn't sound like something he would be able to keep to himself."

Again, Dick shook his head. "At least, I don't think so. I can't specifically remember him saying anything that might be related to a number, but then again…I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind," he added apologetically.

"More than understandable," Batman said reassuringly. "Don't worry about it."

"But, Batman…"

"We'll figure it out," Batman cut Dick off gently but firmly. His eyes going up to the walls again, he said, "They're not exactly inconspicuous."

"There's one over there," Dick replied immediately. He lifted his head slightly and nodded it towards the wall across from him, which was on Batman's left. "I've been watching it this entire time."

"That's two," Batman said, still searching for more. Then he pointed to the wall behind Dick. "There's another one behind you." He spent another minute meticulously searching the room for more. "See anymore?"

"There!" Dick said, using his left index finger to point. "Behind you, just to your right." He swallowed hard and said, "I just noticed it. Don't move or you might trip it."

Batman obeyed, but he darted his eyes to his right, looking for the signature bright red glow. Dick was right. Another foot or two to his right, and he could have easily tripped this one or the one on the opposite wall.

"Four," Batman whispered, nodding his head slowly. "One on each wall."

"Are we sure there aren't anymore?" Dick asked hurriedly. "What if there are some that aren't as easily seen? What if they're behind grey painted plastic to match the walls?"

Batman thought they had caught all of the electric eyes. Besides, four seemed like a nice even number for such a thing. But did Batman really want to put Dick's life on the line for what was really nothing more than an educated guess? Wasn't that basically an assumption?

Bruce remembered a time when he was younger. Whenever he made an assumption of any sort, Alfred would correct him with the saying, 'To assume makes an ass out of you and me.' Alfred never swore, so hearing him say such a thing repeatedly always made it stick out in Bruce's mind perhaps more than anything else.

No. He really didn't have enough information to assume that there were only four electric eyes. He certainly wasn't going to risk taking them out right now, only to find out he was entirely wrong, and watch Dick's life squeezed out of him right before his eyes. There had to be another way to find out if there were more. Something more reliable.

Batman considered this for a while before the answer hit him. "Smoke pellets," he said. "If I set off one of the smoke pellets in my utility belt, it should create enough dust in the air for us to clearly see the paths of the lasers, but it shouldn't be enough to trip them."

Again, Batman could see Dick swallowing hard. The boy's brown eyes were large and round, seemingly glued to Batman and still painfully pleading. It hurt Batman to look at him. It was an expression akin to the one he had seen on Dick all those years ago just after his parents had been killed – terrified and uncertain. When Bruce took Dick in, he had promised himself that he would never see that look on Dick's face again. Yet here they were.

"Are we sure?" Dick asked. "Let's not forget what's on the line here." Dick's tone was slightly joking, but his voice cracked on the last few works, completely ruining the effect he had been going for.

However, it was then that Batman noticed something – Dick kept using the word 'we' in relation to the two of them. He was no longer simply speaking for himself; he had seemed to take Batman into the equation like they were a team. Like there couldn't be one without the other. Dick had never done that before, not in all the years they'd been living together.

"Dick," Batman repeated, meeting Dick's gaze steadily, "I told you, I am _not_ going to let you die. Do you hear me? I'm going to get you out of this. I promise." Batman's gaze faltered slightly, and then he added, "And this isn't like all of my broken promises. Not that the others weren't important, but…your life is far more important than anything else I could ever promise to you in a million years. I'm not going to break this one." He paused a long time for effect before he asked, "Do you trust me?"

Dick's bottom lip quivered the tiniest bit, but his eyes didn't waver. He took one more deep breath before he nodded. "More than anyone," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Batman nodded back, once again feeling like his eyes could communicate more than his words ever could. "Okay," he replied, slowly reaching for his utility belt. Before Batman opened the pocket on his belt that held the smoke pellets, he told Dick, "You watch the wall to my left and the one behind me. I'll watch the other two. Count the lasers as quickly as you can."

Dick nodded again. He clenched his hands into fists, apparently preparing himself to be crushed to death should the situation arise.

Very slowly and deliberately, Batman retrieved a smoke pellet from his belt. Using his thumb and middle finger, he flung it across the room. It bounced across the floor before it detonated, and that was something that Batman hadn't been expecting. It never occurred to him that the pellet would do that on the firm concrete floor, possibly setting off one of the electric eyes not by the smoke itself, but by the pellet.

Batman grimaced, his stomach seeming to rise to his throat while he waited for it to settle. He was preparing himself for the loud crash of the metal stamping device dropping down on Dick, and he almost wanted to apologize to the boy. Beg for forgiveness in the last seconds of Dick's life for being so careless, for not taking Dick's concerns into consideration enough. He was really going to have to work on that.

The pellet continued to dribble across the floor before it finally came to rest against the large iron table on which Dick was lying. Bruce braced himself for the impact, to potentially be splattered with the blood and guts of the one he considered a son. But then no loud bang came. The smoke pellet exploded a moment later, sending plumes of grey smoke into the room.

Batman tried to snap himself back to reality, to concentrate on counting the lasers like he was supposed to be doing. He scanned his eyes carefully but quickly across the walls, making sure that there were indeed only two laser beams that he could see – one to Dick's right, and one directly behind Dick, just as he'd originally counted.

Then came Dick's voice through the smoke. "Batman! There! From the ceiling!"

Batman's eyes darted upwards, and that was when he saw it – the single lone laser that both he and Dick had previously missed. It was positioned in about the center of the room, just below where Dick's boots were hanging over the end of the table.

"Good god," Batman whispered. He couldn't believe both he had Dick had completely missed that one. Then again, they had been searching the walls, not the ceiling. It hadn't even struck Batman that one of the electric eyes might have been put in the ceiling. What a silly and stupid mistake to make, especially one that was so crucial to Dick's survival! It wouldn't have taken long to trip that one, not with the Batarang he was planning on tossing across the room in another minute.

Batman immediately looked at Dick, his eyes pleading for forgiveness for making such a careless oversight. He didn't even need to vocally apologize for Dick to completely understand.

"Batman," Dick said firmly, "it's okay. I didn't see that one either, and it's been nearly directly over me for almost…twelve hours? Your plan worked, just like you knew it would. It's okay," he repeated. "We found it."

Still not entirely convinced that he was able to do this after all, Batman asked shakily, "You didn't see any others, did you?"

Dick shook his head. "Just the three."

His resolve beginning to waver even more by the minute, Batman frowned deeply as the smoke slowly cleared from the room. Even if they had caught all of the lasers this time, did Batman really trust his aim with the Batarang to be as steady as he needed it to be? There were still so many things that could go wrong. Never mind his aim, but what if the Batarang deflected, bouncing back willy-nilly into the room? Even if his aim was perfect, there was absolutely nothing he could do to control the sometimes unfortunate laws of physics.

"Batman," Dick said, sounding weirdly parental and authoritative. "Look at me."

Batman hesitated a moment before facing his young ward, lying there, strapped to a table and completely helpless. Batman couldn't quite help it, but Dick's tone of voice made him smile despite the gruesome circumstances that were laid out before them.

"I'm supposed to take that tone with you," Batman said flatly, "not the other way around."

This caused Dick to smile the slightest bit as well, and perhaps this was exactly what they had needed – a well-placed joke to lighten the mood and break the tension. Batman had to admit that everything – especially his own misguided attempts at being a hero – had been quickly getting to him.

Dick said, "You taught me once that sometimes your biggest obstacle is yourself. That we don't attempt things for the simple reason that we don't _think_ we can, and that's perhaps one of the biggest disservices we can do to ourselves. You told me that just before I decided to run for student council president – that I'd never know unless I tried."

Dick paused, still smiling. He seemed to be caught up in some long ago memory. "I'm going to tell you the same thing you told me then – 'You _can_ do this. I know you can.'" Running his teeth over his bottom lip, Dick added, "I trust you."

Batman perhaps needed Dick to vocalize that more than either of them had realized. Sure, Dick had nodded his head before when Batman had asked Dick if he trusted him, but it was different to actually hear Dick speak those words. Bruce knew that Dick trusted him, at least in theory. Bruce was his guardian; Dick had to have at least a little bit of faith in him, but Bruce had done so much to damage that as of late. Bruce had broken so many promises to Dick, he sometimes wondered if or why the boy should trust him at all anymore.

Dick finding out that he was Batman probably helped matters quite a bit. Dick seemed to be cutting Bruce a lot more leeway since he had learned the truth, but Bruce really didn't want his secret identity to give him a free pass. He still wanted to be held accountable for his actions, and he wanted Dick to hold him to things when Bruce made a promise. The fact that Dick could firmly look him in the eye and tell him, without so much as flinching, that he had faith in him was really what Bruce had needed most in that moment. What he had needed to steady his hand and his heart.

Batman stared directly into Dick's eyes from under his cowl. Swallowing and taking a moment to gather his courage, Batman nodded once. Then Batman slowly and carefully reached for the Batarang compartment of his utility belt. He undid the latch, pulling the Batarang from its slot. Then he took a moment to look around at all of the electric eyes again, debating which one might be the best to take out first.

"I think the one on the wall behind me first, don't you?" Batman asked. "It is the closest."

"Batman, wait!"

This caused Batman's heart to begin thumping anew. He shot Dick a sideways stare and tilted his head. This really was not helping Batman's nerves!

"I still trust you," Dick clarified, picking up on Batman's expression. "I do, but I just thought of something else. How do we know that actually taking them out _isn't_ going to set them off? I mean, destroying them is technically breaking the laser, is it not?"

There was that word again – we. Bruce didn't know why, but the more Dick used that term, the more he wanted to smile. There had been a time not so very long ago when Bruce didn't know if they'd become a team at all. When he'd first taken Dick in, Bruce had had high hopes for the two of them developing a solid father-son connection, but he never imagined that such a thing could happen. Especially as of late, with Bruce breaking so many promises to Dick, he was beginning to wonder if Dick would ever really look at him as a father figure. But now, Bruce knew that Dick not only looked up to him in such a fashion, but that he felt just as strongly for Bruce as Bruce did about him. When Dick kept referring to the two of them as 'we', it only served to cement that fact in Bruce's mind. They had connected in a way that probably neither one of them had seen coming, but that neither could possibly turn away from now. They were in this together.

Batman shook his head, forcing his mind back to Dick's question. "It wouldn't be the first time I've destroyed lasers like these in such a fashion," Batman explained, tightening his grip around his Batarang. "I've disabled many museum alarm systems and the like." He glanced around at the offending electric eyes one more time before he said, "As long as I take it out without interrupting the laser first…it'll be fine." He stared at Dick and said, "I promise. I wouldn't risk your life if I wasn't sure."

Dick took a shaky breath, then let it out steadily and slowly. Eventually, he nodded and said, "I'm ready then."

"I'm not going to throw it though," Batman explained. "It's too risky. We can't risk the Batarang ricocheting off at an inconvenient angle. I'll just cautiously make my way around the room."

Batman slowly backed up against the wall, Dick watching him like a hawk. When his back was against the cold and hard concrete stones, Batman inched right towards the first laser he intended to disable. He gripped the Batarang firmly in his right hand, then brought it upwards, still keeping it pressed against the wall.

At this point, Dick squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands tightly into fists. He did trust Batman. He trusted his guardian more than he could ever describe, but a part of him was still terrified of something going wrong. His life was on the line after all. Dick knew that Batman was more than capable of doing what he was planning, but one tiny little mistake, one tiny little slip in the wrong direction, and it would all be over.

In one quick movement, he brought the sharp end of the Batarang down and directly into the protective plastic covering the laser. He did so at a forty-five degree angle to get to the inner workings of the laser without actually tripping it. A loud shattering sound echoed throughout the room, and then there was a momentary and strange buzzing sound. This caused Batman's heart to leap into his throat, thinking he had accidentally tripped something. But then all was quiet again, and the red light eventually faded and went out.

When Dick didn't feel about a million pounds of steel and iron pressing down on him and squishing him flat, he dared to open his eyes. All that was left where the laser had been was a shattered little pane of plastic with absolutely nothing but darkness behind it. Batman had done it.

Dick let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. It came as a solid rush, and then almost immediately, he drew another back in to replace it. It was bordering on relief and amusement, Dick not quite able to believe that it had worked. The laser had been disabled, and he hadn't been crushed to a pulp underneath the weight of the equipment hovering over him.

After lying here in the same spot for such a long time, Dick had to admit that he had slowly begun to lose hope. He started to doubt that he'd ever see Bruce again, that he'd ever see Wayne manor or Alfred ever again. In fact, a part of him had started to come to terms with his own demise. They were some dark and grim thoughts he'd been having over the last twelve hours or so, but at the time, Dick also thought they were necessary in some ways.

Dick didn't want to die, but he also wanted to be prepared for it when it did come. He didn't want to be lying here with delusions about being rescued only to have all of his hopes crushed in an instant. Dick thought there was quite a bit more dignity in meeting death with certainty and acceptance rather than denial.

Was that the way his parents had felt just before their worlds had gone dark forever? Dick didn't know, but he thought that was most likely how they would have wanted to be remembered – as confronting their fate with bravery rather than in fear of what would become of them.

It had absolutely nothing to do with Bruce, or how much Dick trusted him and hoped he would be rescued. Rather, it had absolutely everything to do with the Riddler. With the madman whose insane laughter still sent chills down Dick's spine when he thought about it. Dick was well aware of the things that the Riddler had done, with how many lives he'd managed to take despite Batman's best efforts to stop him. When a psychotic maniac like that was determined, there was little even a man like Batman could do to stop him.

"Oh god," Dick gasped out, "it worked." He continued to breathe in and out heavily, well aware of the large beads of sweat absolutely pouring down his face now.

Batman didn't reply at first. He decided that perhaps he didn't need to say anything, happy with the fact that he and Dick could communicate so much more deeply without words now. In the end, however, he said, "I promised you it would. And I know," Batman said, staring down at the Batarang in his hands, "I haven't kept very many promises to you in the past. You don't have a whole hell of a lot of reason to trust me anymore. I've let you down so many times-"

"Bruce," Dick cut him off softly, then he smiled. "We've been over this, haven't we? I know now why you lied, and I don't blame you. Not one bit. And I still do trust you. More than anyone else in this world. Even before I found all this out. You took me in when no one else would. That in and of itself earns far more trust than you can manage to destroy by breaking a few promises." He swallowed before he added, "That's a nature of a boy's relationship with his father. Their trust may be tested from time to time, but that boy knows that his father is someone he can always rely on. No matter what."

Batman's chest was currently too tight to speak, so he simply nodded. He stared at Dick, trying to convey everything that was going on inside of him at the moment. There was a profound sense of pride in Batman that Dick was now the one giving him encouragement and pep talks when it was usually the other way around. There was also a deep sense of love for this boy that was lying before him, just waiting for the freedom that Batman would eventually bring him.

But then something else occurred to Bruce. "Batman," he corrected. "When I'm wearing the suit, it's Batman. It wouldn't do to say such a thing in front of a criminal or…anyone else for that matter. It's a good habit to get into now."

"Right," Dick said quietly. "Sorry." He knew Bruce was right, and Dick couldn't believe he'd actually made that mistake, especially when they weren't even in the safety of Wayne manor. Dick had been proud of how well he'd been keeping the two personalities separate and distinct. At home, something like that might be excusable, but there was no telling who could be listening when they were in a public place. Luckily, they were alone here; if the Riddler was listening or watching them at all, surely he would have burst in by now to impede Dick's escape. But Dick really did need to be more careful.

"But enough about that," Batman said, waving it off. "Let's just get the rest of these lasers taken care of and get you out of there. I daresay you've been there long enough."

"You're not kidding," Dick commented, attempting to stretch as much as he was capable of in his current position. He grimaced and added, "My hands and feet keep going numb."

"Well, then," Batman said, assessing the rest of the electric eyes. The next closest one in proximity to him was the one directly behind Dick, so he decided to focus on that one next. It was then that Batman realized that it might be more prudent to sneak around the room, disabling each laser as he encountered it. The paths of the lasers would be pretty easy to avoid now that he knew where they were, and that way, he wouldn't have to worry about the Batarang ricocheting off at any inappropriate angles.

"I'm not going to throw it," Batman told Dick, picking up on the boy's growing expression of worry again. "You're right – it wouldn't do to have it trip a laser by bouncing off of something. The first one worked pretty well," he said, nodding to the now defunct laser, "so I'm going to take the others out the same way. I trust my stealth abilities far more than I do the laws of physics."

Tightening his grip around the Batarang, Batman dropped to the floor in order to keep out of the paths of the lasers. They were all at about shoulder height, so Batman knew it wouldn't be very hard to stay below them. He began crawling past the large metal table on which Dick was lying.

"You have plenty of room to clear it," Dick said, straining his head to the left to watch Batman's movements. "As long as you stay underneath the top of the table, you'll be fine," he added, echoing Batman's thoughts.

Neither one of them spoke again, each too caught up in the tension of the situation. The only sound in the room was that of Batman's boots squeaking against the floor occasionally and the slithering of his cape trailing along behind him.

When Batman reached the wall behind Dick, he continued to crawl until he was within arm's reach of the next laser. Then he carefully climbed to his feet, the Batarang clenched tightly in his right hand. He took this laser out the same way he'd destroyed the first one – by plunging the tip of his Batarang into it at a sharp angle. With another shattering of plastic and a buzz signifying the death of the laser mechanism, the light slowly burned out.

Batman worked his way around the room, taking out the last two lasers on the walls in a similar fashion. When he didn't have worry about any horizontal laser beams anymore, he straightened up the final time, directing his gaze to the last electric eye on the ceiling – the one that both he and Dick had failed to initially notice.

Batman eyed it for a long time, taking a deep breath and compulsively clenching his hand around the Batarang. Truth be told, the laser wouldn't cause them that much trouble as long as they were careful, but Batman still thought it best to take it out entirely. Then they could move freely in the room and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

"You can do it, Batman," Dick said, watching his mentor closely. "Just one more left."

Nodding once, Batman leaned back slightly, raising his arm over his head. He watched the red eye of the laser carefully, taking aim before he flung the Batarang as hard as he could at the plastic panel that was guarding it. Both he and Dick shut their eyes once the Batarang was thrown, too afraid to watch its path through the air.

Neither one of them looked again until the sound of shattering plastic signaled the end of this final laser. The small shards of plastic rained down on Batman, and he turned his head up into them, enjoying them like he would a spring rain. It was over and he had done it. All five of the lasers were now destroyed, and he and Dick could safely evacuate the room once and for all.

Not wasting any more time, Batman quickly hurried over to the table, replacing the Batarang in his utility belt as he went. Next, he withdrew the Bat-laser, using it to make fast work out of the ropes that held Dick.

As soon as Batman cut the last one, Dick tried to fly up into the sitting position. That, however, proved difficult when his back and limbs screamed in pain. Dick opened his mouth, but only a small whine of agony escaped him. He fell back onto the table again, grimacing at the discomfort in his body.

"Careful," Batman warned him. "You've been in the same position for a long time. You're going to be stiff and sore for a while."

Batman stepped closer to the table, curling his left arm around Dick. He slowly helped Dick into a sitting position, the boy grunting in pain as he went. When he was finally fully sitting up, Dick leaned forward, using his hands to try and massage some feeling back into his legs.

"All right?" Batman asked uncertainly.

Dick nodded. "Yeah," he replied, sounding a bit out of breath. He didn't say anything else right away, but he remained sitting there like that, staring down at his legs. He looked almost like a lost little boy who had been through hell and back.

"Dick?" Batman asked in concern.

"I am," Dick insisted. "I just…" He pressed his lips together, falling into silence. When he moved again, it was so quickly, Batman scarcely had time to process what was happening.

A moment later, Dick had thrown himself against Batman's chest, wrapping his arms tightly around the Caped Crusader's neck. He buried his face in Batman's chest and hugged his guardian as if he was clinging on for dear life. And perhaps he was.

Batman's own strong arms came up, encompassing Dick's quivering back and cradling his young ward against him.

"It's okay," Batman whispered. He raised a hand to Dick's head next, smoothing his unkempt hair back. "I'm here. You're safe."

Dick pulled his head away from Batman's chest, looking up into those warm and comforting blue eyes of his guardian. "I really thought I was going to die here," Dick said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I was preparing myself for it, for the fact that I'd never see you, or Alfred, or Aunt Harriet again." Dick then sucked in a breath, hanging his head slightly. "It wasn't that I didn't think you'd come. I just…"

"I know," Batman gently cut him off. He used one of his index fingers, placing it under Dick's chin and directing his ward's gaze up at him. Then Batman wiped away Dick's tears with his gloved thumbs. "It's rather hard to always keep a positive outlook when you're in the throes of a crazy criminal's deathtrap. I've been there many times myself."

"I don't know how you do this," Dick mused. "Dealing with mentally unhinged people like this all the time and putting your own life on the line in the process." Dick smiled, now not able to take his eyes from Bruce's own. "It must take an incredibly strong man. But I already knew that."

This earned a smile from Batman. "I love this city too much to _not_ do it. And, well…it's the compulsion of not letting anyone else go through the horrific things that we have by losing their parents."

This forced Dick into silence. He frowned deeply, staring down at his lap. Once again, Batman knew exactly what he was thinking, but he chose not to point it out. Nor did Dick. They had already discussed that topic and the conversation hadn't gone well at all. Once was enough.

Batman cleared his throat and said, "Let's get you home." He wrapped an arm around Dick again and asked, "Can you walk?"

Dick nodded. "Yeah, I think."

Batman helped Dick to the edge of the table where the boy took a moment to bend and straighten his legs several times. When he was ready, Dick pushed himself to the very edge of the table, slowly planting his feet on the floor. Batman helped to keep him steady, never letting go of his young ward's shoulders.

The very first step he took, Dick faltered a bit. His left leg wanted to give out from under him, but Batman was there, keeping his arm around the young boy and catching him before he could fall.

Dick clenched his hands around Batman's arms until he stood up straighter. When was sure his legs were finally going to support his weight, he smiled up at his guardian. "Thanks."

"I'll never let you fall again," answered Batman.

They began making their way to the door, Dick's steps getting a bit steadier the closer they got. But there was something in the back of Dick's mind – some little nagging feeling that kept telling him that this had all been too easy. It was one of the few times in his life Dick wished he had been wrong.

Before Dick and Batman reached the door, it suddenly flew open the rest of the way, banging back loudly against the wall. This caused both Dick and Batman to gasp, and Dick tightened his fingers around the older man's arm.

The Riddler stood before them, his figure illuminated in the doorway by the now very bright sunlight streaming into the next room.

"Isn't that precious?" the Riddler asked around a cackle, throwing his head back in glee. He stopped suddenly, throwing a glare in Batman and Dick's direction. "You really didn't think I'd let you walk out of here that easily, did you?"

"I'll admit," Batman replied dryly, "I had hoped it would be that easy. But no, I really didn't think so. I know you much too well for that." He straightened up, trying to appear as intimidating to the Riddler as possible. He tilted his head back, narrowing his eyes and staring down the nose of his cowl at his opponent. "You didn't disappoint me."

Dick looked at Batman out of the corner of his eye. "You knew he'd be back?" Dick asked.

"Oh yes," Batman replied, not taking his eyes off the Riddler. "Like I said, I know him way too well for that. I wasn't able to figure out what his plan was, involving you in this sick, sinister plot, but I didn't think he'd let me take you out of here that easily, no."

"You didn't figure it out?" the Riddler asked patronizingly. He entered the room, keeping close to the wall, well out of Batman's reach at the moment. "You really are slacking, Batman. I remember a time when I didn't have to help you along by giving you so many hints. You used to be able to keep up with me right out of the starting gate." He sighed heavily, sounding like he was the most put-upon member of society rather than the other way around. "Well, then, perhaps one more little riddle to help you with that, hm?"

He turned to face Batman directly, tilting his head down, but still keeping his eyes pinned on his opponent. "Riddle me this, Batman: I can make you feel like you're dying, or make you feel very much alive. I can make you feel like you're flying above the highest clouds, or like you're at the lowest of the low. I can be the best thing that's ever happened to you, or the very worst. Once lost, I can be very hard to find again, but once you have me, I'm not always easy to get rid of. What am I?"

Without missing a beat, Dick replied tonelessly, "Love."

"Correct, birdbrain," the Riddler said, giggling maniacally. "Love."

The Riddler didn't offer anything more, and Batman was almost ready to ask what love had to do with anything. But then the Riddler began pacing in front of them, which forced Batman into silence. He wasn't sure what the Riddler might do or what he was planning, so Batman chose to watch him closely rather than trying to engage him in conversation.

"You see," the Riddler said thoughtfully, now appearing completely calm, "something occurred to me some time ago. For the longest time, it remained such a mystery to everyone who was behind that Batman mask. And you know me – I love puzzles – and this seemed like the biggest one them all. But I didn't know where to begin, and I hadn't the first clue about who you could possibly be under there." The Riddler stopped walking and turned to face Batman fully again. "But now, I believe I've cracked it."

Batman tried not to react; he simply kept staring at the Riddler with that same deadpan expression. It certainly wasn't the first time criminals had bragged to him that they knew his true identity when in reality, they didn't have a clue. Oftentimes, their plan was to lure Batman into saying something careless and out of fear that might give them the hint they so desperately needed to figure it out. Batman was sure it definitely wouldn't be the last time that this happened, and he had quickly discovered that the best thing to do was to remain calm.

"You said something rather interesting," the Riddler told them. "A couple of rather interesting things actually. You gave a newspaper interview some time ago – many years, in fact – speaking about some of your greatest wishes other than fighting crime. You happened to mention that you would have really loved to have a family, but unfortunately, that wasn't a possibility because of your commitment to crime fighting."

The Riddler paused for a very long time, giving this piece of information time to sink in. He looked back and forth between Batman and Dick several times, the very corner of his mouth curling up into a sneer.

Batman still tried not to show any emotion, but he felt a significant sting of fear settle into his stomach. It felt almost like a brick sitting there – a large concrete slab, pressing uncomfortably against his insides. It occurred to Batman that the Riddler just may have been listening this entire time. The Riddler could have all the ideas in the world about Batman's secret identity, but when he'd actually heard Dick say as much, then they had a problem.

Still, Batman reminded himself to keep his wits about him. The Riddler could very well be full of himself. That was what he liked to do after all – act like he knew everything about every subject possible. The Riddler was a wily creature, yes, but he still had a lot to learn. The very fact that he used his intelligence for crime of all things was testament to that.

"But then I was watching television at the Gotham Penitentiary not very long ago," the Riddler continued.

"Which is where you should still be," Dick commented, unable to control himself. He knew he shouldn't be antagonizing the psychotic maniac that had just kidnapped him, but he couldn't quite help himself. Back in jail was exactly where the Riddler needed to be, and he wasn't afraid to say so.

Batman, however, gave him a warning look out of the corner of his eye. He shook his head once, cautioning Dick not to say anything further.

In the end, the Riddler didn't even seem to notice. He continued on with his story like he hadn't been interrupted at all. "It's all part of Warden Crichton's plan to rehabilitate us by letting us have as normal a life as possible." The Riddler seemed oddly amused by this. He tilted his head, staring off across the room at one of the walls and smiling like a crazy person.

Dick wanted to tell him that the warden's plan seemed to be failing, but he took Batman's warning seriously. Dick knew that Batman had far more experience with criminals such as the Riddler than he did, and if Batman didn't want him to backtalk to the Riddler anymore, then he would obey. Dick snapped his mouth shut, willing himself to remain quiet.

"You gave a very brief interview that I happened to catch," the Riddler told Batman next. "The reporter asked you if you had given any further thought to having a family. You said no, that it was no longer a thought that you entertained." He stopped and stared at Batman for a long time, as if daring the Caped Crusader to prove him wrong. Finally, the Riddler went on, "I thought this was very strange indeed. One doesn't just _stop_ yearning for a family. I figured the only way that your wants would have been assuaged was if you had gotten exactly what you wanted."

Dick didn't care if the Riddler was watching him; he turned his head and looked up at Batman in concern. He could see Batman swallowing, watching the Riddler in that calculating way of his. Dick could tell Batman was considering his options, his mind probably going faster than Dick could even comprehend.

The Riddler nodded and continued, "This was my hint. The one final big riddle that I had been waiting for. I always knew that the man behind Batman had to be wealthy. That much was a given from the very beginning. There's no other way a man could spend so very many countless hours fighting crime instead of working like the rest of society has to do. Besides, you have way too many flashy contraptions and devices to be anything _but_ rich. Everyone knows that. It's common knowledge by now. But which one of Gotham's elite could you possibly be? There's way too many of you stiffs to count, let alone narrow the list down to any sort of definitive selection. So that's when it hit me – to look up all of the millionaire citizens of this cesspool of a city who have had children in the last year or so. Or perhaps even…_adopted_." The Riddler's head was tilted downwards, but he was staring at Dick through his eyelashes.

"But still," the Riddler said around a sigh, "there were quite a few of you to choose from. Having and adopting children isn't severely limited like you think it would be in such a piss poor city. Imagine that. But it had to be adoption, didn't it?" the Riddler asked, sounding genuinely curious. "If you don't even have the time to hold down a steady job, you certainly wouldn't have the time to dedicate to an actual romantic relationship. I imagine there are very few women in the world who would stand for being constantly stood up in favor of criminals. It _had_ to be adoption," the Riddler repeated, getting back to the point at hand. "Then you could conveniently dump the child with the butler or the nanny while you took off gallivanting around the city."

Dick could feel his face burning, his hands balling up into fists at his sides. He knew the Riddler wasn't referring to him, but Dick still felt slightly shamed. Was that really what he had been this entire time – the one who had constantly been stood up in favor of criminals? The Riddler made it all sound so petty. Besides, how dare the Riddler try and mock Batman like this? Dick knew that the Riddler was pretty full of himself and that this was his game – playing with Batman like a cat would with a mouse – but it still made Dick angry. Dick hadn't fully understood it at first, of course; he had been as clueless as the Riddler once upon a time. But Batman gave so much of himself to his crusade and to the city. The Riddler acted like this was all a form of amusement for Batman, like he took pleasure in making certain sacrifices. The truth of the matter was that Batman deserved to be praised for everything he had done, not made fun of because he couldn't have everything he wanted. Dick hadn't always seen that, but he did now.

"But then. _Then_," the Riddler emphasized, "it hit me. The very last piece of the puzzle I needed to finally solve the problem that's been plaguing me forever. It also had to be an older child, didn't it? Perhaps a teenager, or someone well on his way to becoming one. A child that wouldn't need as much care and coddling as a baby might. Surprisingly, there really weren't very many millionaires that had taken _teenagers_ into their care within the last year or so. In fact…there was just one," the Riddler spoke slowly, holding one of his index fingers up in the air.

The Riddler then tilted his finger downwards until it was pointing straight at Batman. The Riddler sneered and said, "Go on and take a wild guess as to who that was."

_What next, Batfans?  
__Has the Riddler truly figured out the secret identity of Batman?  
__Will Batman be able to think of a plan to put everything right?  
__Will Batman and Dick be able to escape, or will the Riddler keep them guessing?_

_Tune in next time,  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_Mum's the word until then!_


	11. Chapter 11: Batman's Lie

_During our last encounter with Batman, the Riddler had just announced that he had figured out Batman's secret identity. Is it true? Has he really? Will Batman be able to put things right if that is the case?_

_Stay tuned to find out!_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 11 – Batman's Lie

"You, my dear Batman," the Riddler drawled, seeming to relish every single word he was speaking, "are none other than Bruce Wayne – the millionaire philanthropist and guardian of the orphan, Dick Grayson."

The Riddler turned his gaze to Dick next, eyeing the boy like he might have been a piece of meat. He began to take a few steps towards Dick, but Batman wasn't having any of it.

"Stay away from him," Batman immediately snapped, stepping in between the two.

The Riddler grinned, baring all his teeth like he was getting ready to devour a delicious meal. "But you see," the Riddler mused, "there it is again. That very same crazed tone you used last night when you were demanding to know where the boy was. That was when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was on to something."

"Or it could just be common concern that I would show for any defenseless child kidnapped by a psychotic criminal," Batman replied, his voice teetering very precariously on the edge of anger.

"I considered that," the Riddler conceded. "I did. Hence my plan to prove it." He raised his hand in the air, then turned it palm up in the direction of the large iron stamping machine. "It didn't take you two very long in such a perilous situation before the truth spilled out."

Fixing his eyes intently on Dick, the Riddler asked, "What did you call him? Bruce, wasn't it? Talking about him being a father figure to you and what a wonderful relationship you two have based on trust." The Riddler began squealing on the last few words of his sentence, forming his hands into balls and then beginning to giggle. "It was just too perfect. And absolutely disgusting," he muttered, his voice turning back into a more serious tone.

The Riddler glared off across the room at the far wall, seemingly trying to process this concept that was so foreign to him. A moment later, he blinked his eyes and shook his head before setting his sights on Dick once more.

"He was right, you know," the Riddler told Dick. "You really do need to be more careful about what you call him when you two are out in public."

Since Batman wasn't doing anything to discredit the Riddler's conclusion, Dick felt like he needed to say something. Even though Batman had already warned him not to converse with the Riddler anymore, Dick couldn't quite help himself. "You must have misunderstood," Dick said, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible.

"I don't think so," the Riddler said, shaking his head. "I heard it as clear as day. Batman. Bruce. You used the two interchangeably. And as I said, there was only one millionaire in Gotham City who has taken a teenager into their care recently. The funny thing is, his name just also _happens_ to be Bruce as well. That's either world's largest coincidence, or you are indeed Bruce Wayne," the Riddler said, turning his gaze back to Batman and giving him a questioning expression. "Do you wish to deny it, too, my unfair opponent?"

"No need," Batman said, as if the Riddler was so beneath him. "There's hardly any reason for me to defend myself against such ridiculous accusations. I've never met this boy in my life before now, although I would have been very fortunate if I had. You," he said to the Riddler, "are a sad, delusional little man."

The Riddler grinned again, laughing perhaps louder than he ever had. "If that's so," he said to Batman, "then show me. Prove me wrong. Remove your mask. Show me that you're really not Bruce Wayne under there, and then we can all go home. I will admit defeat, at least for now. In fact, it would absolutely shame me for having gotten the answer to the greatest and best riddle of my career _wrong_. I would retreat with my tail between my legs out of pure humiliation."

"First of all, like you would actually let us leave this place," Batman muttered. "Second of all, that would defeat the purpose of me wearing a mask at all, wouldn't it? I can't very well reveal my true identity to you. That would be foolish. Rest assured, however, that I am not Bruce Wayne."

"After you already said you wouldn't deny such foolish allegations," the Riddler said mockingly. "And yet, here you are."

Batman seemed to completely ignore the Riddler's comments. When Batman spoke again, it wasn't at all what Dick had been expecting him to say. "You know, Riddler," Batman said coolly, "since you are so keen on riddles, I have one for you. It seems to me that I don't give you _nearly_ enough of them."

The Riddler frowned and he stared at Batman in a way that indicated that he seemed almost lost. He appeared to be so very perturbed that someone else dared to give him a riddle; that was _his_ modus operandi, after all. Then, however, the Riddler smiled, but it seemed so very forced. It didn't reach all the way to his eyes, and he still seemed unsettled at his whole turn of events.

"You think I can't keep up with them?" the Riddler scoffed. "Fire away. I can out riddle you any day."

"Then riddle me this, Riddler," Batman said, sounding like he was savoring every single word that crossed his lips. "What would you call the pig that Noah ate for dinner?"

The Riddler considered this for a moment before he ran his tongue across his lips. It was almost like he had eaten something absolutely delicious and was savoring the flavor. It only took a second or two before he replied, "Child's play. Is that really the best you can come up with? The answer, my big black bat, is ark ham. Arkham. As in the asylum. Are you threatening me, Batman?"

"Oh no," Batman replied smoothly. "I'm merely making you a promise, Edward."

"Oh yes?" the Riddler asked, sounding genuinely curious. "There's only one little problem with your plan. You're going to have to catch me first."

Batman took a moment to glance around the room. "One to one. Those odds have never proven very good for you in the past, so I'd say you're vastly outnumbered."

"Ah," the Riddler exclaimed. He held up the index finger of his right hand, twitching it back and forth slowly. "Not so fast. You see, you didn't do so well the last time we met, did you? Did you really think I'd come without my minions?"

As if on cue, the Riddler's three sidekicks that Batman had met in the museum crammed into the narrow doorway, effectively blocking any escape for Batman and Dick. Batman had been hoping he could get Dick out of there – send him outside while he took on the Riddler – but that no longer looked like a viable option.

"Who are you calling minion, Riddler baby?" one of the cronies asked.

"Would you prefer subordinate?" the Riddler asked, quickly glancing back over his shoulder. "Crony? Accomplice? Cohort?!" the Riddler kept rattling of synonyms, his voice growing louder and louder with each one.

None of the trio of sidekicks replied to this, seeming to slink back a little bit from their place in the doorway.

"Riddle me this," the Riddler yelled, "my bumbling buffoons: What gets broken without ever being touched?"

The three men simply stood there, staring at the Riddler dumbfounded. It really wasn't very hard to see why these three resorted to following the Ridder around; they weren't very good at thinking for themselves. Dick, however, could see the answer right away. It was something he had a lot of experience with.

"A promise," Dick whispered, glancing at Batman out of the corner of his eye.

"Correct!" the Riddler exclaimed. He jumped up into the air and spun around, gently landing back on his feet to stare Dick down. "Oh, why didn't I meet you earlier?" he cried, his voice cracking as if he was in anguish. He put his hands on his head, tilting his head as he studied Dick. "Someone who can keep up with my mind. We could have done great things together."

Dick swallowed hard before he shouted, "My parents were killed by criminals. It would be a cold day in hell before I ever joined the likes of you."

Despite Dick's language, Batman tilted his head back and stared down proudly at his young ward. A very tiny smile curled itself around the corner of his lips.

"Oh, pity," the Riddler sighed overdramatically. He hung his head and shook it, gazing down at the floor in disappointment. "But no matter," he finally said, lifting his eyes to glare long and hard at Batman. "As your rather eager young ward has said, promises are so very easily broken. You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Batman. Don't you know that by now?"

Dick tried to swallow away the lump that had formed in his throat. He shifted back and forth on his feet, trying not to let on exactly how much the Riddler's words were affecting him.

"I try not to, Riddler," Batman said very slowly, carefully. "I mean every single one of the promises I make. Sometimes, however, life gets in the way and it cannot be helped. For those instances, I am truly sorry to whoever I've hurt. But in your case, Riddler…maybe it really is a threat, because I don't intend to let you get away. Not this time."

"And as I've said, Batman," the Riddler silkily, "you'll have to catch me first. Again, these odds didn't work too well for you the last time, so would you care to try it one more time?"

Everything seemed to happen all at once. The Riddler suddenly launched himself at Batman, throwing punches left and right. The Riddler's three cronies, meanwhile, stormed farther into the room and gathered around Batman. They all began pummeling Batman with their fists. Batman alternated between ducking some of their punches and hitting back, falling seamlessly into a pattern that Dick knew he had used countless times before. Batman moved so fluently and easily, it was almost like watching some sort of carefully choreographed dance.

But Dick knew he couldn't keep this up forever. Four against one were really not good odds, even against someone as practiced and polished as Batman. The Riddler and his henchmen kept trying to grab Batman from different angles. So far, Batman had been able to throw them off, but sooner or later, he was going to start showing the signs of fatigue.

Dick had slinked away until his lower back came into contact with the metal press he had been lying on earlier. He had never been in an actual fight before in his life and he wasn't sure what to do at first. He was frozen with fear and he almost had to remind himself that he had had martial arts training.

His training had been pretty extensive and he was out of practice, but he thought he might be able to be of some assistance to Batman. Hopefully, it would help to balance the odds out a little bit, even if he was much smaller than the others.

He could do this. He had to. Dick certainly wasn't going to stand there and watch while they throttled Batman at any rate. Who knew what would happen to the two of them if it came to that. Judging from the Riddler's words, Batman had already been through the wringer himself, and Dick had absolutely no desire to repeat what he had just gone through. Being trapped in a virtual death machine once was plenty enough for him.

Gathering all of his courage, Dick launched himself forward before he could come to his senses. He threw himself forward onto the back of one of the Riddler's cronies. Dick immediately wrapped his arm around the man's neck, effectively pulling him away from Batman in the process. He henchman faltered in his punches, limping backwards with the weight of a teenage boy hanging onto his back. Dick used his free hand to begin punching at the man's face. The henchman first tried to pry Dick's arm away from his throat, but the harder he pulled, the more tightly Dick held on.

Batman used this opportunity to slip out of the way of the rest of his assailants. This was when Batman spotted a large piece of sheeting metal in the far corner of the room. He dove for it while the two free henchmen flew after him.

The Riddler, however, broke away from them once he noticed that Dick was involved in his own scuffle with the remaining goon. The Riddler ran across the room towards them.

The sidekick had pushed Dick up against the wall in an attempt to try and get away. Dick was pressed into the hard concrete wall, his back screaming out in pain. Rather than loosen his grip, Dick wrapped his other arm around the man's neck. Dick bent his knees and planted the heels of his shoes on the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing off against the wall with his feet as firmly as he could.

This caused the man to stumble forward and it was at this exact moment that the Riddler came running towards them. The Riddler reached out to begin prying Dick's arms from around the henchman's neck, but he was thrashing around too much for this to be of any help. The man's head ended up colliding with the Riddler's in a sickening _clunk_. Dick flinched at the sound, finally letting go of man and allowing him and the Riddler to stumble across the floor. Dick ducked and whirled away from them.

Meanwhile, Batman had picked up the large piece of sheeting metal from the corner just as the two remaining henchmen ran towards him. Batman swung the metal up into the air and brought it down just as the men reached him. It connected with their heads, making a loud _crashing_ sound.

But the Riddler wasn't to be stopped this easily. He had recovered from his lost footing and blow to his head, running towards Dick again. Dick managed to land a few punches in the Riddler's face and it was almost exhilarating to Dick; it felt good to be able to pay back the man who had left him for dead not so very long ago. A moment later, however, the goon that Dick had previously been tangling with recovered as well. He came up behind Dick to repay the favor. He wrapped his own arm around Dick's neck and pulled him backwards. This left Dick swinging fruitlessly in the Riddler's direction.

This gave the Riddler the chance to reach out and grab ahold of Dick's wrists, stilling the boy's hands in midair. The Riddler took a few steps towards him and closed the distance until his face was only a few inches from Dick's.

"You fight quite well for a mere boy," the Riddler said mockingly. "Are you going to tell me again that you've never met Batman a day before in your life?"

This caused Dick to smile. It filled him with excitement to think that his fighting style was being compared to the great Batman. He would have been proud and thrilled to say that he had been trained by Batman, but that sadly, couldn't be further from the truth.

"I haven't," Dick gasped out instead, safe in knowing that he wasn't lying. Not _really_. Even though this was just the Riddler he was talking to, he didn't like to lie; Bruce as well as Dick's own parents had frowned upon lying. Where criminals like the Riddler were concerned, Dick knew that there were exceptions to that rule, but it still made him feel bad for some odd reason.

"I was in the circus, _Edward_," Dick explained further, having picked up on the green-clad villain's real name from Batman earlier. "It was part of my trapeze training, because it helps with balance and coordination."

The Riddler glared at him through the holes in his mask. "Shut this boy up while you're at it, would you?" he asked the henchman over Dick's head.

The goon tightened his grip around Dick's neck, pressing his arm against Dick's windpipe. This caused Dick to gag, opening his mouth in a silence scream.

"Riddle me this, boy blunder," the Riddler said, but then he stopped to cackle. "Do you like that? I made it up myself. It sort of fits you, I think."

Dick tried his best to reply, but it was no use with the henchman's arm still wrapped too tightly around his neck.

"No matter," the Riddler said, shaking his head. "As I was saying: I am as light as a feather, but even the world's strongest man couldn't hold me for more than a few minutes. What am I?"

Dick tried his best to reply, his mouth opening and closing frantically, but no sound came out. He was aware that he probably looked akin to a fish on dry land, but the urge to answer was almost overwhelming, so he kept trying fruitlessly.

"If you're going to riddle the boy," Batman said, joining Dick's scuffle, "at least give him the opportunity to answer. But since he is currently incapacitated, allow me. The answer is breath."

Batman swung his fist in a large sweeping arc, quickly and finally taking out the henchman that had his arm around Dick's throat. This blow was enough for Dick to slip out of the man's grip, but the Riddler was still holding firmly onto Dick's wrists. Dick tried his best to pull away from him, but it was no use.

"Not so fast," the Riddler said. He pulled on Dick's arms and turned, swinging him around the room almost like they were involved in a dance.

The small of Dick's back once again slammed into the low table he had been lying on before, causing his mouth to open in a silent shout of pain. However, his throat still felt a bit raw for any sound to actually come out.

"I brought you here, planning on making a piece of sheet metal out of you," the Riddler said, "and unlike some people, I fully intend on keeping the promise."

The Riddler released Dick's wrists, but Dick was pressed up against the large metal table too tightly to be able to move. The Riddler pushed his hands against Dick's chest, forcing the boy to bend over backwards. A moment later, his head connected with the hard concrete of the stamping table. Dick glanced up above him and found himself staring at the large and flat stamping surface above him. He had already spent so much time staring up at that and he had hoped to never see it again once Batman had freed him from trap. The sight terrified him, causing his heart to begin pounding in his chest.

"Batman," Dick gasped out.

Batman, however, was still involved in a fight with same henchman, and Dick wasn't sure if Batman could, in any actuality, even get to him in time. Batman was a brilliant superhero, yes, but there were things that even he couldn't do. The Riddler was reaching for a large switch on the side of the table upon which Dick was lying. Dick knew that as soon as the villain hit that, he would be as good as dead. Even Batman wouldn't be able to reach him before he was stamped flat. He knew it.

Dick simply closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. He waited for some kind of mechanical sound signaling the start of the machine followed by some sort of crushing weight falling upon him, but nothing came.

When Dick dared to open his eyes again, it was to see that Batman had made quick work of the henchman he had been fighting. Batman was already there for him, grabbing at the Riddler's shoulders and pulling him away from Dick. Batman whirled the Riddler around, landing several more punches in the Riddler's face before the villain could recover.

Dick, meanwhile, was able to push himself into a standing position, still gasping for air from his recent loss of breath. He watched Batman, almost in awe, to see him punching the Riddler over and over again like some kind of unstoppable machine. The Riddler flew back into the wall, his head connecting with the hard concrete. Batman used this to his advantage, pummeling his fists even harder into the Riddler's face. The villain's head seemingly bounced back and forth between Batman's fists and the wall, each with a slightly more disgusting _thump_ than the last.

Finally, the Riddler's eyes rolled back in his head behind the mask and he slumped to the floor. Batman took this chance to glance around the room, checking to make sure that the rest of the henchmen were all safely subdued. They were. While not unconscious like their ringleader, they were all in lumps on the floor, rubbing at their obviously painful headaches.

Batman reached out a hand for Dick, which Dick gladly accepted, allowing Batman to pull him up to stand even straighter.

"Nice work, chum," Batman said, sounding quite surprised. He kept looking around the room at the fallen villains, seemingly unconvinced that Dick had helped him do this.

"It was nothing," Dick gasped out proudly. "I learned it in the circus," he added, thinking it wouldn't hurt to continue to continue to carry on their charade. "And I wasn't nearly as caught off guard this time."

Batman's expression, however, turned concerned at the sound of Dick's grating voice. Placing his hands on his young ward's shoulders, Batman asked, "Are you okay?"

Dick nodded, swallowing audibly. It was his turn to glance around at the pile of fallen men littering the floor.

"I'm okay," Dick said reassuringly. "Just a bit of sore throat, that's all. Nothing that some of my Aunt Harriett's chicken soup won't fix."

Batman gave him a proud smile, but given that they were in the presence of the Riddler and his thugs, he didn't wish to dwell on anything that could give away anything further about themselves. "Good. Can you do me a favor?"

A sudden smile lit up Dick's features. "Yeah," he said in excitement. It had never occurred to him that he would be asked to do anything at all for _Batman_ of all people. It was a little bit beyond his realm to grasp.

"Go outside to the Batmobile," Batman whispered. "It's parked near the street on this side of the building," he said, pointing his left index finger out to the side. "The Batphone has a direct line to my home. Use it to call my butler, Alfred. Tell him what's happened, then have him call Commissioner Gordon and have him send reinforcements."

Dick nodded slowly at each of Batman's point, making a mental list of everything he had to do.

"Also," Batman continued, but then he broke off. He glanced around at the Riddler and his henchmen once more before gently leading Dick farther away from them and closer to the door. When Batman spoke again, his voice was even quieter. "Tell Alfred to come down here and bring a spare Batsuit with him as well as a change of clothes for me. Tell him where the Batmobile is parked and have him wait there for further instructions. Can you do that?"

Dick nodded eagerly, the very thought of doing anything at all like this for Batman positively thrilling him. "But Batman…" Dick broke off, his eyes going to the unmoving pile of criminals lying on the floor. "About the-"

"Shh," Batman immediately hushed him. "Don't worry about it," he said around a smile, seeming to understand exactly what it was that Dick was concerned about. "I have a plan. Just tell Alfred exactly what I've told you, and we'll get this all sorted out. Okay?"

Dick nodded again, but this time he didn't seem so convinced. How on earth could Batman possibly have a plan to counteract everything that had happened here today? To convince the Riddler that he hadn't ultimately figured out the true identity of Batman? But then again, Dick reminded himself that this was Bruce. _His_ Bruce. The person that he trusted the most in the world. Dick knew that if Bruce was telling him not to concern himself with something, then he had absolutely no reason to worry. Bruce had broken promises to him over the years, true, but never when it truly mattered. Dick also knew that Bruce wouldn't lie to him when the circumstances were seemingly so dire.

"Okay," Dick whispered back. He took a deep breath before he pulled gently out from Batman's grasp and headed for the door.

* * *

An hour later, the police had arrived. They had wrapped Dick up in a blanket and had taken him into the next room. They asked him tireless questions about what had happened and Dick was getting fed up with them. He knew that they were just doing their jobs, but Dick had been awake for well over twenty-four hours. He had been through more than enough, and he just wanted to go home, back to Wayne Manor, and curl up in his bed for the rest of the day where he knew he was safe.

Worst of all, in the ensuing chaos of the police arriving, Batman had disappeared. Dick was sure Batman was simply working out what to do about his current predicament of the Riddler having figured out his secret identity. Batman had already told him that he had a plan, but Dick still wasn't so sure. He couldn't possibly see how Batman could put this horrible turn of events right.

Dick wished harder and harder that this entire ordeal could be over with and that Bruce would just take him home. It had never quite occurred to Dick exactly how much he thought of Wayne Manor as his home, but that was all that kept running through his head at the moment. He'd never wanted something so badly as he wanted Wayne Manor right then. Except maybe for his parents to still be alive. But since that was impossible, Wayne Manor seemed like the next best thing.

The police still had the Riddler in the stamping room and Dick could still him shouting and cackling like a crazy person. He kept yelling about how Batman was really Bruce Wayne, and with each word from the Riddler's mouth, the more worried Dick became. How on earth was Bruce ever going to be able to fix this? How could he prevent this from getting out? How could he stop the entire world from finding out his secret?

The answer ended up walking through the door moments later and once Dick realized what Bruce intended to do, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it himself. The answer was so easy, so _simple_. Having been in on a part of the plan himself, Dick was surprised it hadn't occurred to him sooner. Now Dick knew why the spare Batsuit and a change of clothes for Bruce had been required.

The first thing Dick really noticed was Bruce. Not Batman, but Bruce. _His_ Bruce. Yes, they were one and the same, but sometimes, Dick still felt a distinct difference between the two. Batman was nothing like the Bruce that Dick had come to know. Bruce was always so gentle, so soft spoken, and that felt nothing like Batman.

Dick supposed that Bruce did it on purpose. Of course Bruce had to make Batman seem more intimidating. Not to mention, Bruce had to make Batman seem much more different than he really was, or it would be much too easy for people to figure out his secret. In a way, Batman seemed more and more like a persona that Bruce had created and Dick was coming to learn that that was exactly what it was. A persona. A character. A creation.

Dick had only known Bruce's secret for less than two days – had it really only been that long? – but Batman still managed to make him feel slightly intimidated in some days. Dick was sure that that would begin to fade once he became more accustomed to the idea, but in other ways, Dick thought that he would always be much more comfortable with just Bruce.

And there he was.

"_Bruce_," Dick said, blinking up at his guardian while relief flooded his voice.

Bruce had only been out of his sight for a little while, but Dick already missed him like crazy. Dick assumed that it was the ordeal that he had just been through that was making him so clingy and homesick, but he didn't think he had ever been so glad to see Bruce in his life. Not Batman. _Bruce_. Bruce in his grey slacks and soft white sweater that Dick longed to bury his face in. Not the polyester of the Batsuit.

Dick was on his feet in a matter of seconds, throwing himself into Bruce's arms so forcefully that Bruce took a few steps backwards. Then, Bruce's safe and strong arms were around him, hugging him tightly. Dick simply closed his eyes and hid his face in the welcome fabric of Bruce's sweater. Dick was very aware of the fact that he looked and sounded very much like a little child just then, but he didn't care.

"Mr. Wayne," came Commissioner Gordon's surprised voice a moment later from somewhere behind Dick. "I wasn't aware that anyone had called you. My men tried your home a little while ago, but there was no answer. We assumed you were still asleep, so I was going to send a patrolman over shortly."

"I took the liberties, sir. I have my ways."

Dick wasn't even really sure what was happening at first. That had sounded like Alfred's voice, but Alfred hadn't been there, had he? Then again, Dick had been so focused on the fact that Bruce had walked in, he hadn't quite been very aware of anything else. The president of the United States himself could have walked into the room, and Dick probably wouldn't have noticed. All that mattered to him in that moment – his entire world – was Bruce.

When Dick finally glanced up from Bruce's sweater, it took him a moment to work out what was going on, but then it all suddenly made sense to him.

Batman was standing just a few feet behind Bruce. At first, this didn't faze Dick. It took a moment to sink in that this was utterly impossible. How could both Bruce and Batman be standing in the same room? But then Dick realized that Batman didn't look quite right. He was a little taller than Bruce and a little less physically toned. And then most telling of all was the grey moustache peeking out from underneath that Batman mask.

It all hit Dick in an instant – Alfred was wearing the Batsuit! This was how Bruce intended to convince the Riddler that he wasn't really Batman – by having someone else impersonate Batman. The answer now seemed so very _obvious_. This was what Bruce had intended all along when he'd wanted Alfred to bring a spare Batsuit with him. Why on earth hadn't Dick thought of it himself?

In the end, Dick supposed that that was why Batman was so invaluable to begin with – he thought of things that no one else did.

"If you have nothing else for him," Bruce said, "I'd very much like to get Dick home. I daresay he's been through enough for one day."

"Of course," Commissioner Gordon said.

Just then, however, came another shriek from the Riddler. Everyone turned towards the source of the sound to see the green-clad villain being carted away by two of Chief O'Hara's men. The Riddler, however, didn't seem quite keen on leaving at the moment.

"It's impossible!" the Riddler cried, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head at the sight of Batman and Bruce in the same room. "_I_ figured it out! _I_ did!" he shouted, using his right thumb to jab towards his chest. "It is physically impossible for both Batman and Bruce Wayne to be in the same room, because they're the same person! This doesn't make any logical sense! What kind of sorcery is this?"

"As I've already told you," Alfred said from underneath the Batsuit, "you were sorely mistaken when you accused me of being Bruce Wayne. As you can see-" he said, gesturing towards Bruce, "-we are hardly the same person."

"Madness!" the Riddler shrieked at the top of his lungs. "_I_ didn't get the greatest riddle of my career _wrong_! It's…it's some kind of trick!"

"I assure you," Bruce said, "it's not a trick. You were simply wrong."

The Riddler began to laugh, a loud cackling sound that seemed a little bit unhinged. Well, Dick had already known that the Riddler was crazy, but even this sounded a bit beyond what Dick had come to know in the last day or so.

"I. WASN'T. WRONG!" the Riddler roared, clearly punctuating each word. "The Riddler does not make mistakes. This is some kind of illusion. We're all being manipulated in some way! Batman's given us some sort of serum to confuse us. Haven't you?" he demanded, glaring in Alfred's direction. "Haven't you?!"

Bruce cleared his throat. "Perhaps a spell in Arkham would help this man. He seems to be suffering from some kind of breakdown."

Dick could feel his lips curling up into a smile. He had to hide his face in Bruce's sweater again to help hold a snort in, lest he give the entire ruse away. Bruce's tone was so very condescending, Dick couldn't quite help it. Bruce's hand gripped Dick's shoulder tightly, as if warning him to keep it together. Still, Dick struggled not to burst out in hysterical laughter. Dick suddenly couldn't wait to get outside to the Batmobile so that he could let his giggles escape in peace.

"He _knows_!" the Riddler screamed, aiming his index finger in Bruce's direction. "He threatened me with Arkham before you all showed up! He was planning on doing this!"

"I wasn't even here until a few short moments again," Bruce said quietly and calmly, "and I assure you, we have never exchanged words before now. I surely never had an opportunity to threaten you with anything."

"LIES!" the Riddler yelled, still waving a finger in the direction of both Batman and Bruce. Then he focused his eyes on Dick and asked, "Riddle me this, my dear boy: If you have me, you don't share me. If you share me, you don't have me. What am I?"

Dick lifted his head from Bruce's sweater to stare defiantly back at the Riddler. He refused to show any fear at all to this man. Dick really didn't want to continue to play along with the Riddler's silly games, especially now, but he felt almost compelled to. If the Riddler thought he was so very smart and intellectual, then Dick wanted him to know that he wasn't very far behind and could match wits with him any day.

"A secret," Dick replied without missing a beat.

"Correct!" the Riddler yelled around a cackle. "A secret! And I figured his out," he said, jabbing a finger in Batman's direction once more. "I did! And I'll tell anyone who will listen until my dying day!"

"That's enough," Chief O'Hara said, finally joining them in the room. "Get this riffraff out of here. Poor Dick has been threatened by him enough today."

Dick wanted to say that he wasn't feeling threatened any longer. Bruce was there; he always felt safer with Bruce. Not to mention, the Riddler was currently reduced to insane ramblings. Well, his claims weren't _really_ insane, but no one would believe him now. As far as anyone was concerned, the Riddler had finally become completely unhinged and the proof of that was standing right before them.

Bruce's secret was safe, just as he had promised it would be.

_And all is well.  
__Or is it, Batfans?!  
__What else could possibly be in store for our Dynamic Duo?_

_For the answer,  
__Tune in next time,  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_And until then, don't count your chickens before they hatch!_

_Author's note: To clear up the confusion and answer some questions I've gotten, this story isn't quite over yet! I still have a few more chapters coming (I believe there will be fourteen chapters in total) to tie up some loose ends and to set up the sequel, so keep an eye out for them :)_


	12. Chapter 12: When Doves Cry

_When we last saw our Dynamic Duo, Batman had just rescued Dick from the Riddler's evil clutches. After seeing the Riddler taken into police custody, let's see how our favorite crime fighter and his young ward are handling this recent turn of events in their lives!_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 12 – When Doves Cry

Dick ended up falling asleep in the Batmobile on the way back to the Batcave. Batman was glad; he couldn't even imagine what Dick had just been through, and more than anything, the boy probably needed a lot of rest after what had just happened. Batman just wanted to get him home and get him into bed where he could get just that.

When the Batmobile screeched to a halt in its parking place in the Batcave, Batman turned off the motor, but made no move to get out of the car. He turned to look at Dick and Alfred crammed into the passenger seat, but neither of them seemed to mind. Dick had curled up against Alfred's chest, his eyes peacefully closed, while the butler's arms were draped tightly around him.

"Tell me Aunt Harriet was still asleep before you left Wayne Manor," Batman said quietly. "We can get him into bed without her even knowing, and then we can tell her he just…has the flu or something. What he really needs right now is rest, and Aunt Harriet will make sure he gets that and all the food he can stand."

"She was," Alfred replied around a smile, "but whether that's still true or not remains to be seen."

Batman left out a soft sigh. "You'd better go up and check. It wouldn't do for her to see Batman – or anyone for that matter – bringing her unconscious nephew home in the state he's in. She'd be liable to have a heart attack. Which is also why she doesn't need to know the whole story. She'd never be able to stand it if she knew what he'd just been through. Especially considering everything that's happened."

Alfred nodded once before pulling on the door handle and letting the door swing open. He carefully disengaged himself from Dick and pushed himself up by his hands, gingerly stepping over Dick so he wouldn't disturb him.

When Alfred disappeared into the service elevator, Batman finally got out of the Batmobile. He made his way around the car and carefully sat down on the edge of Dick's seat. Batman reached out a gloved hand to cup Dick's cheek, but then Dick stirred. He didn't open his eyes, but he leaned forward until he found Batman's chest.

Dick mumbled, "Dad," before stilling again against Batman.

Dick's voice had been completely sleep-addled. He was probably caught in the throes of a dream about the man whose name he had spoken, but Bruce felt tingles of excitement race across his skin for a brief moment nonetheless. He was sure Dick would have absolutely no memory of this, and Bruce wouldn't tell him, but he knew he would always remember this moment between them regardless.

The two of them were still until the service elevator opened once more. When Alfred emerged a second later, he nodded. "Mrs. Cooper's still asleep, but we'd better hurry," Alfred said, scurrying across the floor of the cave to the Batmobile. He placed his hands on the passenger side door, making sure there was room for Batman to lift Dick out.

"Good," Batman said. "We'll take him up in the service elevator, and then I'll come back down and change." Batman secured one arm around Dick's shoulders and slipped the other one under the boy's knees. Planting his feet on the floor of the cave, Batman slowly stood and hoisted Dick's sleeping form out of the car.

When they got to Dick's room, Alfred quickly closed the door behind them, then raced across the room to the bed. He pulled the still neatly made covers down, making room for Batman to set Dick down against the sheets.

Batman pulled Dick's shoes off before pulling the covers over him, tightly tucking the boy in. When Batman straightened up, he brushed one hand over Dick's cheek, just as he had done in the Batcave.

"I'll be right back," Batman whispered. "And then I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Bruce sat in an armchair next to Dick's bed for the rest of the morning and all afternoon. He wasn't going to move until Dick slept off the worst of his exhaustion and Bruce knew he was going to be okay emotionally. Bruce explained it away to Aunt Harriet by telling her that Dick was indeed sick with the flu. Since it was the first time Dick had been ill since he'd known him, Bruce felt the need to stay with him and watch over him the entire time. It wasn't entirely _untrue_ after all.

Aunt Harriet, however, had seemed to buy it. She said that a child's first illness was often the most disconcerting. Since Bruce had never been through this before, of course he felt the need to hover over Dick and watch him relentlessly. It was a helpless feeling, she said, and she understood what Bruce was going through.

Alfred came into Dick's bedroom often to check on the both of them. Every single time he entered the room, he asked if Bruce needed a break.

"I can watch him for a while," Alfred kept offering, "so you can at least stretch your legs or perhaps take a nap. After all, you were up all night, and now this…"

"I'm fine, Alfred," Bruce reassured him, glancing over his shoulder at the butler. Looking back at Dick, Bruce said, "I want to be here when he wakes up. I want my face to be the first one he sees. To know that he can finally count on me for something." Bruce hung his head, heaving a sigh.

A moment later, Alfred laid a comforting hand on his master's shoulder. "It's not your fault what happened, sir. It's the Riddler's and no one else's, even if he _was_ trying to get to you. You should know by now that things like this are never anyone's fault except of those who commit these vicious crimes."

"I know," Bruce muttered, looking up at Dick from under his eyelashes. "But you know, it really makes you remember what's important in life when things like this happen."

"Batman _is_ important to you," Alfred pointed out. "Crime fighting _is_ important to you. Master Dick knows that now, and he understands."

"Yes," Bruce agreed, "but family is still the most important thing. I'm not going to give up crime fighting. Of course I'm not. I could never _not_ do it, and I'd never be able to live with myself if I hung up the cape and cowl forever. But still…I need to spend more time with him. I need to follow through on more of my promises to him. If that means cutting back on some of my commitments, then so be it. I don't need to attend every dinner or gala that comes up, and I'm sure they'll understand the need to spend more time with my ward. Because him, you, and Aunt Harriet are the most important things in this world to me. And I need to start showing it more."

Bruce turned his head, glancing up at Alfred again. "There's never been a day since my parents have died that I haven't wished for one more with them," Bruce told him. "That's what I want to give him," Bruce went on, looking back at Dick. "As many days as I have in my power to give him."

Alfred didn't say another word. He simply squeezed Bruce's shoulder tightly before turning around and quietly leaving the room.

Bruce sat and watched Dick for a while longer until Bruce's eyelids slowly began to grow heavy. He ended up dozing off despite his best efforts to the contrary. Bruce wanted keep an eye on Dick until he woke up. Bruce wanted to be there waiting for his young ward's eyes to open, but Alfred was right – Bruce was exhausted.

A while later – Bruce wasn't even sure how long it had been since he had drifted off – Bruce was awoken by a loud screaming. Bruce nearly jumped out of his seat, grabbing white-knuckled onto the armrests and frantically looking around the room. He was disoriented from his nap, but it didn't take long, however, for Bruce to figure out where the commotion was coming from.

"BRUCE!" Dick screamed. The boy still appeared to be asleep. His eyes were closed, and he was thrashing around in his covers, the cotton fabric completely caught up in and twisted around his writhing form.

"Dick," Bruce said, immediately getting up from his chair. He moved to the edge of Dick's bed, reaching out for the boy's thrashing arms.

"BRUCE!" Dick screamed again, not reacting to his guardian's voice.

"Dick!" Bruce tried again, raising his voice. "You're having a nightmare!" He finally wrapped his hands around Dick's quivering wrists and gently said, "Dick, wake up. You're having a nightmare." He didn't want to do anything that might further startle the boy such as screaming too loudly or shaking him too harshly, so Bruce tried to keep his voice and actions gentle and quiet.

When Dick still didn't reply, but kept whipping around like he still might have been caught up in one of the Riddler's traps, Bruce spoke a little more loudly. He leaned forward as closely as he dared to the boy's squirming form and said, "Dick! Wake up! It's just a nightmare!"

That was when Dick woke with a start, his eyes shooting open. He then froze, his chest heaving with each breath in and out as his eyes met with those of his guardian. Almost immediately, Dick's face turned red and he looked slightly embarrassed at having had such an outburst.

"It's all right," Bruce said calmly, not deterred by the fact that Dick might be a bit ashamed. Dick had just been through a very harrowing ordeal, and Bruce wasn't about to let his need to be comforted hide behind his want to appear grown up. Bruce reached out for Dick's head, brushing back his sweat-soaked hair from his sticky forehead. "I'm here and you're home now."

Dick swallowed, turning his head to stare at the other side of the room. His chest was still heaving with each breath in and out.

"Hey," Bruce said. When Dick didn't look at him, Bruce used his index finger to turn Dick's chin in his direction. When he was suited that he had Dick's attention once more, Bruce said, "You don't need to be embarrassed, okay? After what you've just been through, you have every right to be afraid. I daresay that it would leave anyone with nightmares. Even the bravest soul in the world."

Dick didn't take his eyes off of his guardian's calming face this time, staring up at him like he might be looking at some beautiful natural formation rather than another person. "Do you ever have nightmares about the criminals you fight?"

Bruce nodded once. "All the time."

Dick smiled at this. "'Cause you're the bravest person I know. If you have nightmares, then…I guess it's okay, huh?"

Bruce smiled in return. "Of course it is."

"Bruce?"

"Yes, Dick?"

Dick hesitated for a long time. His eyes went to the window across from his bed and he fidgeted around slightly.

"You know you can ask me, whatever it is," Bruce told him. "You don't need to be embarrassed about anything. You know that."

Dick still didn't voice what was on his mind right away. He bit at his bottom lip in nervousness before looking back to Bruce once more. "My nightmare wasn't really about the Riddler."

Bruce frowned in thought. When Dick didn't offer anything more, he asked, "What was it about?"

Dick took a deep breath before he asked, "You won't ever make me leave, will you?"

"Dick," Bruce said in shock. "Leave Wayne manor, you mean?" When Dick nodded, Bruce said, "Why on earth would I do that? Dick, this is your home now! You're always going to be welcome here. Even years from now, when you're all grown up and have children of your own, you'll be allowed to come back here any time you want." When Dick still didn't reply, Bruce again asked, "Now tell me, why on earth would I make you leave?"

"Because," Dick said cautiously, "of all the trouble I've caused you."

"Dick," Bruce gasped again. He was completely caught off guard by Dick's line of questioning, and he wasn't really entirely sure where to begin to soothe his fears. Bruce shook his head almost frantically. "_No! Never!_" He reached out his hand for Dick's still damp cheek, placing the tips of his fingers against it. "How many times have we been over this? You're my son now, and no amount of crazy criminal schemes is going to change that. Ever."

"I just thought," Dick said quietly, "that you'd think I was too much trouble after all this. I mean, the Riddler figured out your secret identity because of me." Dick let out a sob.

"Which we suitably took care of, I'd say," Bruce reminded him, smiling at him proudly.

"But…" Dick argued, "what about the next time he or someone else tries something?"

"They're welcome to try as many times as they'd like," Bruce said decisively. "They've been trying to figure out my secret identity since the day I unleashed Batman on Gotham City. I'm sure there will be plenty more plots to try and figure it out, and…I don't care."

"I don't think that's entirely true," Dick disagreed. "You do care. The fact that you have to keep your real identity hidden is a crucial part of being able to do this job."

"It is," Bruce conceded, "and I will do everything in my power to keep it safe, but it hardly takes priority over the rest of the things in my life. And you, Dick, are the most important thing to me. The Riddler, and the Penguin, and the Joker, and Catwoman – everyone – they can use you in any damn way they please to get to me, but none of it will _ever_ make me want to stop being your father. None of it will ever make me get rid of the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. _Ever_. Do you hear me?"

Dick sniffled, wiping away a few pesky tears from his cheeks. "Ever?"

"_Ever_," Bruce repeated. "You're far too important to me now, and…I think I'd honestly die without you. Dick, you've given me even more of a reason to do what I'm doing and to come home safe to you."

"Good," Dick said. He suddenly pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me too." Without another word, he thrust himself into his guardian's arms, hugging him so tightly, like Bruce might disappear from existence if he let go.

Bruce didn't care. He hugged his young ward back just as tightly, his arms squeezing him firmly against his chest.

They sat like that for a very long time, but then Bruce asked, "And Dick?" He reached down, using the tips of his fingers to push Dick's chin up to face him again. "I know we may not be related by blood, but you're a son to me in every single way that counts. Please, _please_ don't ever feel like you mean any less to me because you have Grayson blood flowing through your veins instead of Wayne blood. It doesn't matter. At all. You are my son, end of story, and nothing's ever going to change that. There's nothing you or any criminal – or anyone else for that matter – could ever do to make me feel any less for you. I promise. And if there's ever one promise I'll keep to you, it's that one. Please believe me. Please trust me."

"I do," Dick said, burying his head in the front of Bruce's sweater. "You know I do. I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't. And I told you – I know why you've broken promises to me in the past. I know you didn't want to, and you only did because someone else needed your help. I understand that. You don't have to keep apologizing for it."

"But I do," Bruce replied firmly. "I didn't like lying to you. Not in the least. And I was just talking to Alfred before you woke up. You know, this entire experience has really made me realize what's important, and what I need to spend more time on." Bruce paused, tilting his head down so that he could look Dick in the eye. "You."

"But what about Batman?" Dick had settled comfortably into Bruce's chest. There was a smile present on his face, and he didn't look like he was planning on moving from his spot any time soon.

"I'll always be Batman," Bruce answered. "I think you know that."

Dick nodded. "Yeah, I do, and I wouldn't ever want you to _not_ be Batman. I know how important crime fighting is to you."

"Yes, it is," Bruce said. "But you're still more important. You always will be. I don't ever want you to think that Batman doesn't need you, or that you matter less, because I do have to give so much time to it."

"I won't," Dick promised. "I did before, but that was before I knew the truth. I'm just going to have to share you with the rest of the city, and…that's okay. I didn't think it would be, but…they need you too. Perhaps even more than I do. You've already saved me, after all."

Bruce didn't reply right away, but he simply squeezed Dick more tightly to him for a while. After a moment, however, he said, "But there are a _lot_ of things I can cut out of my daily schedule to make more time for you, and that's what I'm going to do."

Dick stared up at him happily. "Like what?"

"Silly dinners," Bruce said. "Golfing matches. And you know, a lot of my meetings with the Wayne Foundation can be combined. There's really no need for some of them to span so many days. I'll have perhaps one day a week dedicated to Foundation business, and that's a lot less driving time too. It'll free a lot more of my days to spend with you." Bruce hesitated then before he brought up his next idea. "Or how would you like to start being included in more of my errands?"

This caused Dick's smile to grow even more. "Really?"

Bruce smirked. "If the idea excites you, I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner. A lot of the people on the board at the Foundation have been asking to meet you as have some of my friends. They've been curious about you ever since I took you in, but I didn't want to bring it up to you at first. You had so much going on, and I wanted to give you time to get settled in and get more comfortable here. And then the more I thought about it, I just always thought you'd be bored with dinners and meetings with my rich friends."

"I'm…actually curious about what it is you do all the time," Dick admitted.

"Then you're more than welcome to come to some of them," Bruce said. "Some. I can't bring you too all of them – the ones that might be about more serious business – but if you'd like to join me for some lunch or dinner meetings some days, I'm sure that can be arranged."

"Yeah," Dick said. "I'd love that."

"Why didn't you ever say you were curious about it?" Bruce asked.

Dick shrugged. "I thought you'd think I was silly or being a nuisance."

"Dick, I told you," Bruce said. "There is nothing you ever have to be afraid to ask me, okay? There is absolutely nothing wrong with simply being curious or asking questions. My father always told me that there were no stupid questions."

"Only stupid answers," Dick finished for him, snickering. "My dad told me that too."

"There you go," Bruce said, nodding. "And even if you do think your question is silly or stupid, I promise I won't. And I'll do my best to answer it for you if I can. Okay?"

Dick nodded again, curling into Bruce's chest even more closely. "Bruce?"

"Hm?"

"Can you just hold me for a while?"

"For as long as you need."

"You don't think that's stupid either?" Dick asked. "I'm a teenager. I really shouldn't be cuddling with a parent anymore. I should be way past that age, shouldn't I? So many kids at school seem to think their parents are square and probably wouldn't be caught dead doing this."

"Frankly, I don't care what anyone else thinks," Bruce said. "Nor should you. This is about you, and me, and what works for us. If you don't think this is square, then I don't either." Bruce didn't continue on right away, but then he threw caution to the wind. "In fact, there's something I never told you."

"We're beyond keeping secrets from each other now, aren't we?" Dick asked. He glanced up at his guardian, a small glint of fear in his eyes.

"I think so, yes," Bruce agreed. "Batman was my biggest, deepest, darkest secret. If you know about and accept that, then I know there's nothing else I _can't_ tell you. But this isn't really a secret, so much as just something I never thought important to mention. But when you first came here, you were still so closed off and distant, there were so many times when I just wanted to take you into my arms and hug you until I made everything better. I know I can't do that with a simple gesture, but that didn't stop me from wanting to try. From wanting to take all of your hurt away."

Dick sighed, a sound of pure and utter contentment. "I'm glad you didn't, I think. I'm not sure I would have let you, not back then."

"I didn't think so either," Bruce said. "I wanted to let you do so if and when you felt ready. You were already dealing with so much, and I didn't want to push more on you before you wanted me to. I knew that by letting you do so first, it would be because _you_ wanted to. Not because _I_ wanted you to."

They fell into a comfortable silence after this, with Bruce holding Dick the entire time. In fact, Bruce almost began to think that Dick fallen asleep in his arms. This caused Bruce to smile and hug Dick slightly tighter; it made Bruce happy to think that after all this time, he had become the place of safety that Dick could go to. Especially after so many of Dick's refusals to even spend time with his guardian at first, it amazed Bruce to think about how far their relationship had come.

But then Dick spoke, softly pulling Bruce from his thoughts. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Bruce said. He pulled away from Dick slightly so that he could more fully look down at his young ward.

"Why Batman?"

"What?" Bruce asked, blinking. "We've already talked about that, haven't we?"

"No," Dick replied, "I mean, why a bat? Out of the all the things you could have chosen…" Dick trailed off, looking up at Bruce questioningly.

"Oh," Bruce only said at first. It really wasn't a question that he had been expecting. In fact, it hadn't even been something that he had thought about in a very long time. Bruce thought the last time it had even crossed his mind was back when he had created the Batman persona and had been talking it over with Alfred. Bruce was a little bit caught off guard by the question.

Bruce pulled away from Dick even further. He turned on the bed so that he could look at Dick more fully. Rubbing at the back of his neck, Bruce finally admitted, "I'm actually afraid of them."

Dick blinked. "What?"

"I'm afraid of bats," Bruce repeated. It occurred to him how very appropriate of a lesson this might be for Dick considering some of the conversations they had had as of late.

"But…" Dick began, but then he broke off. He frowned, staring off across the room in thought.

Bruce didn't offer any sort of explanation at first, but rather, waited for Dick to express whatever was on his mind.

When he realized that Bruce was watching him, waiting for a response, Dick said, "Well, I think it's just hard for me to imagine you being afraid of anything."

"You know I am," Bruce said. "I've told you I am. Even the bravest man is afraid of something."

"I know," Dick replied. "It just makes it a little bit more real when you actually give me an example of something you are afraid of." Dick considered this for a while before continuing. "Why use it as the inspiration behind your secret identity then? Wouldn't you pick something – I don't know – you have an affinity for instead?"

Bruce tilted his head from side to side and shrugged slightly. "You'd think so, but a bat is so indelibly tied to what drove me to become Batman in the first place, it's a little bit hard to separate from it."

Bruce suddenly stood up from the bed and held his hand out for Dick. "Come with me," Bruce said. "I want to show you something."

Dick took his guardian's hand, allowing Bruce to pull him up from the bed. Dick was curious, but he didn't ask where they were going; he quelled his curiosity while Bruce led him from the room and guided him down the corridor to his room.

At first, Dick thought that Bruce would be taking him to the Batcave. Dick couldn't imagine what Bruce's own room could possibly do with him being Batman, but he went. Dick had learned a long time ago not to question Bruce's often roundabout way of explaining things to him, because they always seemed to make sense to him eventually.

Opening the door to his room, Bruce led Dick inside before closing the door behind them. Dick stood and watched while Bruce made his way to the far corner of the room. There, he crouched down and pulled up the corner of the large area rug that covered most of the floor.

"This rug wasn't always here," Bruce said, his back to Dick. He was staring down intently at something on the floor. "Alfred put it in here to cover this up."

Without a word, Dick quickly crossed the room until he was standing just behind Bruce. He glanced down past Bruce's shoulder to see deep gouge marks etched into the wooden floorboards.

"I made these the night my parents were killed," Bruce said quietly.

Dick swallowed hard. It wasn't very often that Bruce even brought up the death of his parents, and it almost floored Dick to think about the fact that Bruce was offering up this information to him so freely.

Dick wanted to ask why – what on earth could Bruce have possibly been doing that had caused such damage to the floor? – but he stopped himself. Just like the murder of his own parents, this was something that was deeply personal to Bruce. Not to mention, Dick understood that such grief had sometimes caused him to do irrational things, so he didn't think it prudent to question it. Dick didn't want to press Bruce on such a serious matter anyway, so he simply waited.

"It was a horrible night," Bruce told him. "I thought the police would never stop asking me questions, forcing me to repeat it over and over again. When I came home, I could still hear the questions in my head. And the gunshots. And my parents' screams. Echoing. Relentless. I managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still crying so hard, I doubted I'd ever be able to stop and-" Bruce stopped, glancing up at Dick over his shoulder. "You know."

Dick simply nodded; he didn't need the details of what Bruce had gone through on his very first night as an orphan. He understood all too well.

When Bruce looked back to the damaged floor, he went on, "I woke up sometime later. I'm not sure what time it was. Three in the morning, maybe. I heard this horrid chirping sound. It was almost like a bird, but not quite. It wasn't pleasant like a bird's song. It had an almost _squealing_ quality to it, like a mouse." Bruce noticeably shivered at the memory.

Dick wondered if it would too forward of him to try and comfort Bruce. After all, Dick was just a kid. What could he possibly know about trying to comfort someone? Bruce was always the one to offer him reassurance, and it felt odd for Dick to try and do that now. At the same time, however, Dick knew how very hard it was for Bruce to talk about this. Bruce obviously didn't do so for a reason, the very same reason why Dick didn't talk about losing his own parents – it was simply too painful. That was something that Dick did understand. Besides, weren't he and Bruce far past the point of having to censor themselves around each other? Wasn't that what they had just talked about not so very long ago?

Reaching out one of his hands, Dick only hesitated momentarily. He drew his hand partially back, curling it up into a fist, but then he changed his mind again. Dick opened his hand once more, resting it on Bruce's shoulder and squeezing it.

In a completely unexpected gesture, Bruce reached back, lying one of his hands on top of Dick's. Bruce squeezed it back, not saying anything for a long time, and he didn't have to.

After what seemed like forever, Bruce finally continued on with the story. "I had no idea what it was – that sound. Like I said, it was this weird mixture of a mouse and a bird. My room was dark, and I was terrified. I remember sitting up in bed and looking around wildly for the source of the sound, but obviously, it was too dark to see anything. I was shaking so badly when I finally got up the courage to turn on my bedside lamp. I was terrified of what I would see. Or what I wouldn't see. I'm not sure."

Bruce didn't elaborate on that, but Dick didn't need him to. He already understood perfectly. Of course, Bruce had been terrified that he would find something horrific in his room. On the other hand, though, Dick knew that not finding something could be even worse in its own way. Dick often hated the feeling of simply _losing_ things after his parents had died. If his mother and father, the two most important and stable figures in his life, could disappear that easily, Dick often worried about what else could simply cease to exist in his life.

"When I turned my light on," Bruce continued with his story, "I didn't see anything out of the ordinary at first. But that sound was still there – that horrible screeching, squealing sound. Then I saw something big and black. I didn't know what it was, and with everything that had already happened that night, I know my mind was playing tricks on me. I know I imagined it to be bigger and scarier than it already was."

"When we're kids," Dick offered, "a dark bedroom can hold all sorts of scary things that aren't really there. It's easy to exaggerate what we're seeing."

Bruce nodded in reply. "That too," he agreed. "Then I realized that whatever it was was _flying_. It flew across my room, past the window. I'll never forget that image – the black wingspan of some creature illuminated by the light of the moon. At first, I did think it was a bird – some big, dark thing like a crow maybe. But it was _squealing_. More and more, it was sounding like a mouse than anything. I know what crows and ravens sound like, and that wasn't it. It was horrifying to an already scared and shaken eight year old boy who had just lost his parents mere hours before."

Although Bruce couldn't see the gesture, Dick nodded; it was just another thing that Dick understood completely without needing any of the details.

"All I could think about," Bruce continued, "was getting rid of it, whatever it was. I looked around the room for anything to defend myself with, and that was when I saw it – my baseball bat propped up in the corner." Bruce paused, taking a moment to gesture towards the opposite corner near the door. "I jumped out of my bed, and grabbed my bat, and just started swinging it. It was completely mindless at first, and I was just swinging around at the thin air. I was so full of adrenaline, I could barely even focus on what I was doing, let alone trying to find the black creature in an already dark room. All I knew was that there was something scary in my room and I wanted it gone.

"Then my bat connected with it out of nowhere," Bruce said. "I heard this sickening _clunk_ when it hit my bat. The creature – whatever it was – let out this almost deafening squeal, and I saw it soar across the room. It hit the wall here-" Bruce pointed up to the wall near the corner, "-and then landed. It was squirming around like a bug that's fallen onto its back and it was making the most horrible noises – _squeals_ and _whines_ and _chirps_. I slowly came over to it, like I was approaching some terrible monster. That was when I got my first really good look at it, and…I realized it was a bat. That was why it sounded like a rodent to me – because it was. And it was awful – the sounds it was making and the trashing around it was doing. It was trying to get up, to start flying again, but I didn't want it to. That thought terrified me – of it flying wildly around again. I just wanted it to stop – to stop moving and to stop making those cringe-worthy sounds. So I started hitting it with my bat, over and over and over again."

Bruce was running his fingers along the deep grooves in the floor, the marks that he had made himself with his baseball bat thirty years ago now. It was almost like seeing the rings in a tree trunk, Dick thought. It was strange the way some things remained as a testament to what had happened years ago. In a way, it was almost like looking through an old photo album with Bruce – seeing what had happened and hearing the story that went along with it.

"I woke up Alfred with the commotion," Bruce said next. "He was just as terrified when he heard all this banging coming from my room. He later told me that he thought it was my parents' murderers, coming back for me. But then he tried to convince himself that his mind was playing tricks on him and that I was just having some sort of nightmare or night terror even. He came running in here and saw me hitting the floor with my bat over and over again. He didn't see the creature at first, because I was in the way. He had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it. Again, he came to the conclusion that I must have been in the throes of a night terror, because he said I looked…possessed almost. Completely out of my mind with rage, which I probably was.

"He came over to me and grabbed me, but I barely even noticed that he was there. I just kept beating that poor defenseless little bat into the floor." Bruce paused, frowning a bit. "Well, I can say that now, but in that moment, I was still so terrified of it. I think anything could have scared me half to death that night, considering everything that had already happened. Anything could have seemed like much more than was."

Bruce squinted in thought. "I remember Alfred calling to me, screaming my name, but it took so long for it to really register. At first, I barely even heard it, like he was standing at the end of a long tunnel instead of right beside me. I vaguely heard him asking what I thought I was doing," Bruce said. His voice now almost sounded far away as well, like he was getting completely lost in the memory of the past. "But I didn't answer him. He was too far away and inconsequential, it seemed. I was still focused on beating the life out of that poor little bat, so Alfred finally had to just grab me and shake me. He later apologized for it, because he had never seized me in such a violent way before, but he didn't know what else to do. I wasn't responding to my name or anything else he said. I was completely caught up in what I was doing, which…to this day, I'm still not sure what it was."

Bruce opened his mouth to go on, but then he stopped abruptly. He looked back up at Dick before continuing on. "In many ways, yes, I think I was possessed by something – a nasty combination of anger, and grief, and sadness. The more I think about it now, I'm sure it had less to do with the bat itself than it did with my own loss." Staring down at the gouge marks on the floor again, he said, "I was getting everything out, I suppose. The more I did it, the better I felt. It was such a release.

"Then I remember telling Alfred," Bruce said, "that there was a bat. Alfred grabbed my baseball bat away from me and said it was dead. And it was. It was just a bloody mass of entrails by then, and I don't know why, but that was when everything really hit me. I was on autopilot for most of the night since…everything had happened. I barely even remember any of it – talking to the police, and then Alfred coming to get me and taking me home. It's all a blur, like it happened to someone else. The next clear memory I have was being woken up and terrified by that bat. But then I suddenly felt sorry for that little animal that I had killed. Seeing it lying there in a pool of its own blood – it was like seeing my parents all over again. The next thing I knew, tears were streaming down my face and I started sobbing. Not little sobs either. Loud, hysterical, choking sobs, even harder than the ones I had cried myself to sleep with. I collapsed into Alfred. He carried me to my bed and held me there all night while I cried. And that was all I did until the sun rose."

Bruce stopped, and then everything in the room was still and quiet. Dick dare not move for fear of disturbing the feeling. He couldn't believe that Bruce had just shared such a personal and private story with him. Dick's heart was thumping in his chest and a weird but not unpleasant sensation had settled into his stomach.

Ever since Dick had learned of Bruce's duel identity, Bruce had been telling him for a while now that there wouldn't be any further secrets between them. But this had been way more than Dick had been expecting, at least for a while. It took time to develop friendships, and Dick felt like so much had happened between him and Bruce in such a short time, it was almost overwhelming. Dick wouldn't have traded it for the world, however. He supposed that learning Bruce's last secret of Batman had finally broken down the last of the wall that remained between them, and the feeling was exhilarating.

For the first time, Dick really believed everything that Bruce had told him – that there wouldn't be any more secrets between them. Not that Dick had thought Bruce was lying, but he still hadn't been expecting such candor from him for a long time yet. Especially considering that Bruce had just told him about the night his parents _had been killed._ Dick knew that perhaps Alfred was the only one who knew the details about that, because he had been there, but now Dick knew too. Dick knew something that he rather doubted Bruce had ever shared with anyone else. His mind was whirling from the weight of it all.

Dick thought that nearly a minute had passed since Bruce had said anything. Bruce was still staring down at the gashes in the floor, unmoving and silent. Dick almost forced himself to move, to say something to the man that now seemed to look so defeated before him.

Dick's hand was still on Bruce's shoulder, so he leaned into his guardian, lowering himself to the floor. When he was seated next to Bruce, Dick said, "That's why you don't mind holding me either. Because Alfred did it for you when you needed it the most."

Bruce blinked and turned to stare at Dick. Bruce finally seemed to come out of that place he went to sometimes when he thought too deeply about things. A small smile formed on Bruce's lips before he said, "I suppose that's true. I had never needed anything more that night than I needed Alfred, and he was there. Even if it meant holding me for hours while I cried hysterically and probably made his arms and legs half numb. He didn't flinch away from it, and I don't want to either. If that's what you need, then I'm going to be here to provide it."

Then, Bruce finally moved out of his position. He had definitely been crouching for far too long, because he groaned in pain as he took the weight off his legs. He stretched his legs out and sat down on the floor, seeming to relax for the first time since he had begun his story.

"That was a rather roundabout way of explaining to you why I chose a bat," Bruce admitted around a soft breath of laughter. "I realize that." His tone almost sounded apologetic for having gotten so in depth.

"Bruce, no!" Dick immediately exclaimed. "That isn't what I was thinking at all. I'm actually honored that you felt comfortable enough to tell me that."

"I do," Bruce replied, nodding confidently. "Honestly, I don't think there's anything I _couldn't_ tell you. As I've said, you already know my deepest, darkest secret."

"I know," Dick said, "but this is so much more personal than that. It isn't exactly easy to tell people about things that happened the night your parents died." Dick paused, giving Bruce a meaningful glance. "I know," he repeated.

Bruce simply nodded in response. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking a minute to glance up at the window above them. Bright afternoon sunshine was streaming in through the window, a stark contrast to the night he had just described to Dick. It was nice, in a way, to be sitting in the warm and comforting sunshine when that night thirty years before had been anything but. Bruce simply remembered it being cold, and dark, and rainy. He'd hated everything about it, but sitting here with Dick made it seem almost bearable. Bruce didn't think he'd understood until that very minute exactly how helpful it could be to share his loss with someone in such a way. Especially someone who could more than understand what he'd been through.

Wrapping his arms around his knees which he had pulled up to his chest, Bruce glanced back at Dick. Smiling momentarily, Bruce said, "So you asked why a bat. After my parents had died, it was impossible for me to even think about it without also thinking about what had happened with the bat later that night. The two almost become synonymous with each other in a way. To me, the incident with the bat more or less represented the whole experience – suddenly finding myself thrust into these circumstances that terrified me and that I didn't know how to handle. I suppose getting through my parents' deaths was much like picking up that baseball bat and mindlessly swinging it around. I had no idea what I was doing, but at the same time, I knew I had to. I had no other option but to keep moving forward despite simply wanting to curl up in a ball under the covers for the rest of my life.

"When I got a little bit older and I started thinking more and more about crime fighting as a path, I kept indelibly coming back to that night and everything that went along with it." Bruce bit at his bottom lip in thought. "I couldn't quite separate the two in my mind. That bat – it represented everything losing my parents did. It was something I had never seen before – at least, not up close – something that completely terrified me to the core. Something that caused me to act without even knowing what I was doing.

"Then I started thinking about the criminals I might be facing," Bruce continued his story. "I knew that I would have to pick a persona that was terrifying for them. And there it was," Bruce said, reaching out the fingers of his right hand to drag them across the gouge marks in his floor. "Why not pick the same thing that had so terrified me that very night? It seemed like such a perfect fit; I didn't know why I hadn't thought about it earlier.

"And when it came right down to it," Bruce said, "crime fighting terrified me too." He paused and sighed slightly. "I'm sure that's a little bit hard to believe now. It's become almost second nature to me, but…it still scares me if I'm honest. Going out there against some of the world's most ruthless criminals, never knowing what to expect or what I'm going to get myself into. It's become easier over the years, of course. I'm no longer quite as terrified of it as I once was – when it was still so new to me and I really had no clue what I was doing. I was mostly just making it up as I went along.

"But since that bat had become so tied to the loss of my parents," Bruce admitted, "I think in a lot of ways, I was much more terrified of that animal than I was about any criminals I might find myself up against. Losing my parents was the hardest thing I have ever been through; if I could get through that, I knew I could get through anything. What better way to prove that to myself than to choose the very symbol that more or less represented that time of my life?" Bruce stared long and hard at that scuffed area on his floorboards. "Crime fighting, in a way, was all about conquering my fears and facing the unknown. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that that was exactly what I did with that bat that night. I rose to the challenge and conquered it without having any idea what I was doing. I started to think about crime fighting in much the same way – I knew it was something I just had to do. I thought the best way to conquer my fear of it was to use the very thing that had scared me so. I'd turn the bat into a symbol of strength for myself and turn it on the criminals I was facing to try and scare them instead." When Bruce glanced back at Dick, he added, "It represented everything about that entire experience for me. There was really no other option when it came right down to it. It had to be the bat."

Dick found himself smiling. "I never would have thought of it that way – taking the very thing that terrified me and trying to use it to my advantage." Dick hesitated, not sure if he should voice his next thoughts, but deciding he had to anyway. He and Bruce were now way past the point of having to pick and choose what they said to each other. "If I didn't think you were amazing before, I do now."

"I'm not," Bruce immediately protested, a slight hint of redness rising up in his cheeks. He never liked to be praised or put on a pedestal in any way.

"But you are," Dick whispered. "Bruce, do you not realize how encouraging you are to someone like me? Not only to pick up and keep going so diligently after your parents died, but to _adopt_ the very thing that terrified you and turn it into a symbol of _protection_. I think that's pretty amazing."

Bruce shrugged, still not giving into Dick's praises. "Sometimes that's all we can do – pick up and keep going. Sometimes we don't have a choice."

"We always have a choice," Dick said, the words escaping his mouth before he scarcely had time to process them. "That was something I learned early on at the orphanage. At first, all I wanted to do was hide away in my bed all day with the covers pulled over my head. It was _so hard_ to even _think_ about facing each new day. The very thought would be overwhelming to me. How on earth could I possibly carry myself through each day if the simple thought of doing so almost crippled me with fear? It seemed easier to stay in bed some days."

Dick stopped, an odd expression passing over his face. It was somewhere between a smile and a look of sadness. It was like he was remembering something heartbreaking, but also recalling something good that went along with it.

"I'll never forget that day," Dick finally continued. "I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to stay in bed like I did most days back then. But the boy in the next bed, Kevin, came to wake me up and he was so excited. He said they were having ice cream downstairs." Dick laughed softly. "I didn't know it then, but the Wayne Foundation had organized to throw an ice cream social for the orphans on the first day of summer every year. I almost didn't come down. Even the thought of ice cream wasn't quite enough to pull me out of bed that day. I still would have rather stayed under the covers.

"But Kevin wouldn't let it go. He kept running over to my bed and jumping up and down on the mattress. He was driving me crazy," Dick said, rolling his eyes. "Finally, I did get up just to humor him. In my mind, it would be the easiest way to get some more peace and quiet. The sooner I got up and went to eat ice cream, the sooner I could go back to pulling the covers over my head and shutting out the world."

Dick was staring up at the window, just as Bruce had a moment before. When he lowered his eyes to Bruce again, Dick stared long and hard at his guardian. "That was the day I met you," Dick said quietly. When he spoke again, his voice began cracking. "And I almost didn't. I almost missed the best thing that ever happened to me." At this, tears quickly welled up in Dick's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, but no sound came out.

Bruce immediately scooted across the floor, closing the few feet between him and Dick. Wrapping his arm around his young ward, Bruce pulled him closer until Dick was curled up in his chest.

"You know," Bruce said quietly, "I like to think that even if we hadn't met that day, we would have eventually. Like you said, we throw the ice cream social every year, and that's not the only thing the Wayne Foundation does for the Gotham City Orphanage. We would have bumped into each other eventually. It's the laws of probability. Besides, I also like to think that sometimes, things like this are destined to happen."

Dick sniffled a bit, wiping at his nose in frustration. Dick hardly ever cried. Even after his parents had died, he tried his best to bury his emotions. It was only once in a blue moon that he let things get to him, and he allowed himself to break down. He didn't know why, but sometimes, he thought it hurt worse to allow himself to cry. It was simply easier sometimes to keep everything completely bottled up. Why then, had he been so prone to crying lately? Dick supposed it had a lot to do with learning Bruce's secret and everything that had happened for the both of them recently. It had been a very emotional past couple of days.

"You really think so?" Dick asked, glancing up at his guardian.

"Yes," Bruce said honestly. "I do. This couldn't have simply happened by accident – two random strangers bumping into each other and becoming so much more than that. I've met a lot of the children at the orphanage before, but I never connected with any of them like I did with you. Yes," he repeated, "I like to think that things like this are destined to happen. After everything that we lost, it was about time we gained a little something to make up for it, wasn't it? I told you, you've filled an empty space in my heart more than I ever thought anyone could."

Dick squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around Bruce's back, rather than simply letting his guardian hold him. Dick thought that this was one of those times when they really needed to hold each other. And there was nothing wrong with that.

_The end is in sight, Batfans!  
__Will Bruce and Dick finally be okay?  
__Will they be able to make things work with their new normal?_

_For the exciting conclusion of our story,  
__Tune in next time,  
__Same fan site…  
__Same fan channel._

_Author's note: Just to let you guys know, there will be one more chapter of this story, and then I will be working on getting the sequel up – _On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin_! :)_


	13. Chapter 13: Spread Your Wings and Fly

_The last time we saw our Dynamic Duo, Bruce had saved Dick from the Riddler's sadistic trap. Let us see, one last time, how Dick and Bruce are managing to get along after coming through such a harrowing ordeal, shall we?_

**On Wings of Steel**

Chapter 13 – Spread Your Wings and Fly

The morning of Dick's fourteenth birthday dawned warm and sunny. It was exactly the sort of weather Dick loved to see on his special day – cheery and with just a glimpse of the improved weather to come in the following months.

As was customary on Saturday mornings, Dick made his way down to breakfast in his pajamas. Bruce always tried to be there for waffles on Saturdays, and he and Dick always ate in their bedclothes. Bruce always didn't make it, of course, but Dick was sort of counting on his guardian at least being there for breakfast on his special day. At least, Dick hadn't heard anything to contrary, so he was assuming Bruce was available anyway. Now that he knew Bruce's secret, Bruce always made in a priority to let Dick know in advance if he knew their plans would be changing.

As he made his way downstairs, Dick took a moment to think about just everything that had happened in the last few weeks. From finding out that Bruce was Batman, to ending up involved in the Riddler's ridiculous schemes, it was almost impossible for Dick to sometimes wrap his head around everything that had taken place and just how much had changed.

Dick had been plagued with nightmares for a while since meeting up with the Riddler – horrific ones about being caught up in over-the-top traps where Batman would burst in to save him in the very last possible seconds. He also had dreams about his relationship with Bruce – about it changing for the worse and Dick ending up without a guardian to speak of. Dick and Bruce had overcome so much in such a short amount of time, but Dick was still afraid that things might implode at any point.

True to his word, however, Bruce had made it a priority to begin including Dick in some of his social life. And Dick absolutely loved it. He had already been with Bruce on a few lunch dates, meeting some of Bruce's business associates. Dick often feared that such meetings would prove to be boring, but they turned out to be anything but. Bruce's friends and business partners were always interested in meeting the young boy that Bruce had taken in, and they always made it a point to include Dick in the conversations that came up. They even often spent a large portion of the meetings asking Dick questions and getting to know him, and that never failed to make Dick feel important and like he was a part of things.

More and more, Dick also found himself in the Batcave of all places. With all the time Bruce spent down in the bowels of Wayne Manor, he thought it silly not to let Dick come down and spend some extra time with him. Even when Bruce was simply tending to mundane things in the Batcave, Dick often brought his homework down to work on it there. What was really strange, however, was that whenever Bruce was stumped on an extra hard case, he would also often share the details with Dick and ask his opinion on what he thought was going on. Dick loved being included in something so serious, of course, but it was the most surreal thing ever. Never, in a million years, had Dick ever imagined he'd be helping Batman of all people to solve cases.

Dick remembered a time, many years ago, watching news reports about Batman on television. It never failed to strike him just how amazing Batman was. It often left Dick wishing and hoping that someday, he might be as remarkable as Batman, and now, here was Dick actually _helping_ the man. It was almost insane how much things had changed in such a short amount of time, but this was slowly becoming their new normal. And Dick wouldn't have it any other way.

When Dick made it to the ground floor of Wayne Manor, his slippered feet whispered quietly over the foyer carpet, and he was greeted with the smell of waffles, maple syrup, and sausage. Dick inhaled deeply, a smile curling over his lips. The only thing he was still uncertain about was if Bruce had managed to make it or not.

His question, however, was answered a moment later when Bruce – still clad in his plaid bathrobe – appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He leaned casually against the doorway, steaming mug of coffee in hand, as he smiled at his young ward. "There's the birthday boy. We were wondering where you were. I was just about to come up and see if you were awake yet."

This caused Dick's smile to grow impossibly larger. He hastened his pace to the kitchen, almost breaking into a skip as he made his way over to Bruce. Without warning, Dick threw himself into Bruce's arms, burying his head into the older man's soft, terrycloth robe.

"I was hoping you'd be here," Dick whispered, his voice muffled by the fabric.

Bruce's arm immediately came up to envelope the young boy's shoulders. "I made it a priority. Where else would I be on my son's fourteenth birthday?"

Still smiling, Dick pulled away. He grinned up into his guardian's eyes, imagining that he'd probably never grow tired of that word – _son_. Dick, however, shrugged. "You never know. Things come up."

"Yes," Bruce sighed, "they do. And…I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a possibility today. But I owe it to you to be here, and I'm going to try my hardest to do so."

"I can't really ask for more than that," Dick said. He had been trying very hard to accept the amount of responsibilities that Bruce had with Batman, and Dick was rather proud of how easily it almost came to him. He knew now that Bruce did try as hard as he could to spend as much time with Dick as humanly possible, but sometimes, there just weren't enough hours in the day for all the responsibilities that Bruce had. And that was okay. Dick didn't necessarily feel as deeply hurt as he used to by Bruce's absences. Sometimes, it simply couldn't be helped. Dick knew that if Bruce could change things and spend every waking second with Dick, then he would do just that, no questions asked. But Bruce had a responsibility, not just to himself and to his businesses, but to every single citizen of Gotham City. There was no way Bruce could just ignore that, and Dick would never want nor ask him to.

Dick just now had to share Bruce with pretty much everyone else in this city, and that was okay. Dick didn't feel an intense sensation of jealously anymore when Bruce was called away. Slowly but surely, he had to come to grips that Bruce was a busy man. But Bruce never failed to tell Dick that he was a priority and to make him feel like it was much as possible. It was times like this that made Dick realize how very much he was loved – when he knew Bruce tried his hardest to be there for him. Whether it worked out or not didn't really matter, just as long as he knew that Bruce tried and that Bruce would give him every single second of every single day if he could. Dick was coming to learn that more and more.

That wasn't to say that Bruce was neglecting Dick, because he wasn't. More often than not, he was going out of his way to make Dick feel included in every single thing he did. Dick wasn't just an annoying ward that Bruce had to take care of. He was every little bit as important to Bruce as Bruce was to him, and Bruce was never going to let him forget that ever again.

"Happy birthday," Bruce said warmly, rubbing a hand vigorously over Dick's shoulder. "Alfred made waffles," he said, steering Dick into the kitchen.

"I smelled them," Dick said, the smile never leaving his face.

As soon as they entered the kitchen, Dick craned his neck around to the left, peering through the doorway that opened up to the formal dining room. Just as he was expecting, Dick saw several presents piled up in the center of the table, covered in just about every color of wrapping paper imaginable. A part of Dick just wanted to make a run for them and begin tearing them open, but it wasn't quite time for that yet. He'd been at Wayne Manor long enough to know that they had a tradition; birthday presents were always saved for after dinner.

"After dinner, sir," Alfred said as he laid down a heaping pile of waffles in the middle of the kitchen table.

"I know," Dick said, trying his best to control his enthusiasm. "I can still look though." He continued to turn his head in the direction of the dining room, even as Bruce led him to his chair.

"Happy birthday, Master Dick," Alfred said, leaning over to place a kiss on the top of Dick's head.

"Thank you. But where's…?" Dick began to ask, glancing around the room. There was still one person missing.

A moment later, however, his question was answered. Aunt Harriett came bustling into the room, carrying a large and flat brown cardboard box. It was such a familiar shape, Dick didn't have to ask what was inside it.

"We can't have a birthday celebration without a cake!" Aunt Harriett announced, placing the box down on one of the countertops. "Although that's for after dinner too, don't forget."

Dick knew this as well, but what he didn't know was what was on his cake. His parents had always let him pick the theme of his parties and of the decorations on his cake, but Bruce had made it a point to pick something for Dick this time. Dick didn't mind, and he was rather excited to see what his guardian had chosen.

Dick bounced over to the counter just as Aunt Harriet was lifting the lid off the box. As Dick neared it, his eyes widened in awe. Although there were quite a few birthday cakes from his childhood that stood out to him as his favorites, he thought that this one…well, took the cake.

It was an outdoor scene with a large tree taking up one side of the cake. Underneath the tree, on the bright green grass, was a little robin. On the opposite side of the cake, the bright blue sky slowly darkened to twilight near the top. There were a few spots of white icing in the darkness, indicating stars. Then, almost too dark to see, there was tiny little bat against the navy blue patch of sky.

Dick's breath caught in his throat. In his eyes, it was almost like the bat was flying high in the sky, looking over the tiny little helpless robin underneath the tree, making sure nothing bad happened to him. It was times like this when knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bruce _got_ him. That Bruce understood him, perhaps like no one else ever had.

A moment later, Dick felt a warm hand rest itself on and squeeze his shoulder. He didn't have to look to know who it belonged to.

"I understand the robin," Aunt Harriett said, leaning over to get a good look at the cake. "It was your mother's nickname for you, but I didn't know you were all that interested in bats. They're…sort of dark and scary, aren't they?"

"Yes," Bruce immediately agreed, "they are." He paused for a moment before he added, "It was a story I told Dick not very long ago, about my own fear of bats. I was letting him know that it was okay to be afraid."

Aunt Harriett straightened up, staring at Bruce questioningly. "You?" she asked in confusion. "I didn't know you were afraid of bats, Bruce."

"See?" Dick asked, leaning his head back to look up at Bruce as well. "She had the same reaction I did."

"Everyone's afraid of something," Bruce explained. "Even when it's something so very small and seemingly insignificant, there's nothing wrong with being afraid. Ever."

"I'm afraid of spiders," Aunt Harriett said, her hands going up to her cheeks in horror. "The hair and all those legs – it's not _normal_!"

Dick snickered. Even though he knew that it was okay to be afraid of anything, it still amused Dick that his Aunt Harriett was so terrified of tiny little spiders. He couldn't even count the number of times he had heard Aunt Harriett shrieking in terror, and Dick had automatically jumped to the conclusion that something bad was happening. He always imagined that Wayne Manor was being broken into, and he, Alfred, and Bruce had gone running to the rescue, only to find Aunt Harriet standing on a chair and screaming at the sight of a little spider in the corner.

"They're only bugs, Aunt Harriett," Dick teased. Even though it was nothing to be ashamed of, it was something that Dick always teased his aunt for.

"As I've said," Bruce said softly, "there's nothing wrong with being afraid of anything, no matter how small."

"It's okay, Bruce," Aunt Harriett replied good-naturedly, leaning over to wrap an arm around Dick's shoulders. "A boy has to tease his aunt about something."

"And actually, spiders are arachnids, Dick," Bruce corrected. "The term 'bugs', as most people use it, typically refers to insects, which are different. Insects have six legs and antennae. Spiders have eight legs and usually prey on insects."

"Yeah," Dick said, immediately latching onto the opportunity to match wits with Bruce on something. "And did you know that daddy longlegs aren't spiders? Most people make that assumption because of the number of legs, but they lack the fangs, venom, silk, and two distinct body parts that all spiders have."

Bruce paused, smiling down at his young ward proudly. "That's right, Dick."

"We learned that in biology," Dick said, grinning from ear to ear.

Aunt Harriet, however, suddenly and loudly cleared her throat. "You boys do know that we're about to eat breakfast, don't you? Could we possibly keep the spider talk down to a minimum?"

This caused Dick to giggle again, but Bruce said, "We're sorry, Aunt Harriett. We'll have to save the science discussions for after breakfast, I'm afraid," he said, winking at Dick.

* * *

As soon as they finished eating, Dick made his way upstairs to take a shower and get dressed. His heart had begun pounding in anticipation of what the day might hold and what Bruce might possibly have in store for him. Bruce was never one to let a special occasion like a birthday pass without making a big fuss out of it, and Dick's mind was racing with possibilities.

Dick was barely even done getting dressed when he heard Bruce's voice calling to him from downstairs.

"Dick?" Bruce called, his voice drifting up the stairs. "Can you come down here? I have something to show you."

Dick hurried through pulling his sweater on over his head. He paused for a moment to look in the mirror. He briefly reached out a hand for his comb, which sat on top of his dresser, but then he decided against it. It was his birthday and Bruce had a surprise waiting for him downstairs! There wasn't time to worry about silly and inconsequential things like combing his hair! He had been waiting for this moment for ages already!

Settling on simply running his fingers through his wet hair, Dick wrenched open his bedroom door and took off running down the hall. He sprinted down the stairs and across the foyer until he was face to face with his guardian. He almost didn't have time to stop and had to put out his hands, catching the front of Bruce's sweater in order to halt his movement across the carpet.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "Excited, are we?"

"It's my birthday," Dick said by way of an explanation. "I knew you wouldn't let today pass without doing something…important." He hung his head slightly at sounding so proud. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly quieter, calmer. "Not after all that's happened recently anyway."

Bruce's eyebrow was still up. "Have I ever let your birthday pass without doing something important?"

Dick opened his mouth to reply, but then he snapped it shut.

"Exactly," Bruce replied dryly. "Even when I had first met you and you accused me of trying to buy your love, I still didn't shy away from doing something extravagant."

Dick bit at his bottom lip and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the lush carpet in the foyer. He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his tan trousers. "I'm sorry about that. Why didn't you knock some sense into me? I was so ungrateful for everything you were doing for me."

Bruce turned to face him more fully, placing a warm and heavy hand on his shoulder. "We've talked about that," Bruce said understandingly. "I know why you said things like that and I don't blame you in the least for them. It's okay."

"Sometimes I think you're being too forgiving of me."

"Not at all," Bruce disagreed. "I told you I fully understand where all of that was coming from. I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes treat Alfred the same way. He too understood why I lashed out at him, and I was grateful that he could be so accepting of some of the things I put him through. I'm just trying to offer you the same thing, because I know how important that is."

Dick didn't reply. The only thing he could do was offer Bruce the most grateful smile he could muster. Then he leaned into Bruce, burying his head against the soft fabric of his guardian's sweater.

Bruce hugged him tightly for a moment before he said, "Besides, I really didn't think that you wanted to spend today trudging up all of that. It's your birthday. Don't you want to see what the day has in store for you?"

This made Dick's smile grow impossibly larger. "Where is it?" he asked, unable to hide the excitement that flooded his voice. Even though most of his presents had to wait until after dinner, Bruce always surprised him with something large early in the day so they had something to spend time together over.

Without a word, Bruce kept his arm around Dick and led him into the living room. Dick looked around the room – first to the couch and then to the coffee table – but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Then he turned his head towards Bruce's desk, almost expecting there to be a large present sitting atop it, but there wasn't anything there either.

"Where?"

"There," Bruce said, using his free left hand to point towards the expanse of windows that looked out over the grounds.

Dick ran his eyes across them, almost expecting something to be sitting out on the lawn, but then he saw it. At first, just a loud gasp escaped from Dick. He was so completely stunned, he couldn't even manage to move from his place.

"Do you like it?" Bruce asked quietly, but it wasn't really a question. Bruce already knew the answer to that, knew exactly how Dick would react to this present.

"Bruce…" Dick began, but then he trailed off. He could only shake his head in disbelief.

It was a large telescope, already set up on the largest balcony that looked out over the front yard. It was one like he had always wanted, but his parents had never been able to afford. The thing was, however, that Dick couldn't remember ever telling Bruce that he wanted one. Bruce had already done so much for him, and Dick didn't like to seem too greedy by basically telling Bruce what to buy for him. Besides, Bruce was one of those people that always seemed to know anyway. Just like now.

"But how did you know?" Dick asked, staring up at his guardian in awe. "I never even told you."

"I have my ways," Bruce said, staring down at Dick smugly. When Dick simply continued to gaze up at him questioningly, Bruce chuckled. "You've mentioned more than once how your dad was very interested in astronomy and how he used to teach you all the names of the constellations as well as he could without having a telescope to show you with."

"But…" Dick tried, still completely in astonishment at Bruce's perception skills. "I still never said…"

"How could I not know?" Bruce asked warmly. "You always had this longing look in your eye when you told me, and this yearning in your voice. It was impossible to miss."

Dick's eyes welled up with tears and again, he buried his head into Bruce's sweater, wrapping his arms around his guardian tightly. Gone were the days where Dick could accuse Bruce of trying to buy his love. Not that Dick would ever dare to say something like that to Bruce ever again, but for perhaps the first time since they had met, Dick realized just how much Bruce_ got_ him.

Bruce knew and understood a lot about him, but it still amazed Dick sometimes when Bruce always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and feeling. Dick rarely needed to spell out his emotions anymore, but he could almost always count on Bruce to pick up on them regardless. Bruce had already told him how important he was, but it was times like this when it really hit home. Bruce paid attention to him, took things he said into consideration. Bruce wouldn't do that unless he really did consider Dick to be a terribly important person in his life.

"Thank you," Dick whispered, his voice muffled by the material of Bruce's sweater.

"You're welcome," Bruce replied, patting his ward gently on the back. He then gently pulled away from Dick and said, "Go look at it." He tilted his head towards the window.

Dick grinned as he pulled away from Bruce. He quickly crossed the living room floor and bounded up the steps to the balcony. Since it was still the middle of the day, and the sun was shining much too brightly to look up at the sky, Dick directed the telescope downwards towards the ground.

Birdwatching was also something Dick had done with both his mother and father, but he hadn't done very often since he had lost his parents. It was one of those things that was simply too painful for him and brought back too many memories of the man and woman he had loved so fiercely. But now, Dick thought he could feel the familiar sense of excitement tingling up and down his spine when he spotted a brown and orangish-red bird hopping across the lawn.

"Bruce!" Dick called, looking back over his shoulder at his guardian. "Look! The first robin of spring!"

Smiling, Bruce made his way over to him. Dick leaned away from the telescope to make room for Bruce, instead staring off across the lawn at the robin, which was possibly looking for a worm. Meanwhile, Bruce had leaned over, using the telescope to watch the tiny little bird.

"Aunt Harriett mentioned it earlier," Dick said quietly, "but my mom used to call me her little robin. Cause I was born on the first day of spring."

It wasn't very often that Dick talked about his parents. He mentioned them in passing, like his father's love of astronomy or his mother's love of Elvis songs, but for the most part, they remained a mystery to Bruce. Things like this – like nicknames they had for each other – had certainly never been mentioned before. And here was Dick, telling him all about it.

When Bruce let go of the telescope and straightened up, he stared at Dick for a very long time. At first, Bruce wondered if he should mention what was on his mind. He was afraid that he might upset Dick for perhaps prying into memories that were obviously very precious to him. Dick clearly only offered certain things for a reason, and Bruce knew that it really wasn't any of his business. In the end, however, he thought about everything that had happened over the past few weeks – everything that they had gone through and everything that they had shared with each other. Didn't they just agree that there were no such things as secrets between them any longer? What good was that – what good were all the words – if they didn't mean anything?

"That's where the design for your trapeze costumes came from," Bruce said quietly, "with the bright red bodice."

Dick nodded, not daring to speak.

"Did you bird watch a lot?" Bruce asked carefully.

Dick nodded again, still not taking his eyes off the lone little robin still picking about in the spring grass. Bruce could see Dick swallowing before his young ward asked, "How could you tell?"

"The same way," Bruce answered, following Dick's line of sight to the bird. "The excitement in your voice, the look in your eye when you spotted him."

Dick smiled slightly – a wistful, almost sad expression. "Another one of my parents' hobbies. They had books upon books on ornithology. My dad knew exactly what every bird was on sight. My mom, though, prided herself on knowing the _calls_. She'd hear a bird singing, and she'd know right away which species it was, without even _seeing_ it. I always thought that was amazing."

"My mother too," Bruce added.

Dick turned to look at him quickly. "Really?"

Bruce nodded, but then he frowned in thought. "I was very young, and it had never occurred to me that one person could be so skilled at something. It was perhaps one of the first times that I decided I wanted to learn as much as possible, to be as knowledgeable about something as my mother was about birdcalls."

"I think you certainly achieved that," Dick said, grinning.

"Not that that's a reason to become complacent or cocky," Bruce reminded him. "One can always learn more, despite how educated they become in a particular subject."

Dick nodded, very slowly and deliberately. "I know that," he said. It almost sounded like he had intended to say more, but then he stopped. Bruce didn't push, because if there was one thing he had learned about Dick in all of their time together, it was that Dick did things in his own time; pushing him would only serve to drive him into his shell even more.

"Bruce?" Dick asked after nearly a minute. His voice was hesitant, tentative.

"Yes?"

"There's something I've wanted to ask you," Dick finally admitted. He turned to face Bruce fully, his expression one of fear. "Well, since I found out about your secret identity and everything happened with the Riddler."

Bruce took a moment to sit on the edge of the balcony. He watched his ward for a long time before he said, "You know you can ask me, whatever it is."

"Well," Dick said around a sigh, "I already know how you feel about this sort of thing."

Bruce tilted his head, leaning closer to Dick. "About what?"

Dick took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. "First of all, I want you to know that it's not what you think."

Bruce remained patient, playing along with Dick's coyness. "Think about what?"

Finally dropping all pretense, Dick began to explain, "Let me just say that this doesn't come from any sort of desire to do what you're doing."

One of Bruce's eyebrows went up again. "Dick…"

"It doesn't," Dick said firmly. "I'm fine with being Dick Grayson, high school student, ward to millionaire Bruce Wayne. I am only fourteen years old today – too young for any of that…crime fighting business."

"Then what are you asking me?" Bruce cut him off carefully.

After another heavy sigh, Dick admitted, "I want to further my self-defense skills. I do have martial arts training, enough that it got me through that last scuffle with the Riddler and his henchmen, but I know I still have a lot to learn. You are so much more advanced than me, and I know I can learn so much more than I can do right now. It would make me feel so much safer in case anything like this ever happens again. I like to know that I'm as prepared as possible to defend myself against such things."

Bruce had turned away. For the first time since their deep conversation had started, he looked out across the lawn again, trying in vain to find the robin again. But it was gone, however; perhaps it had found its lunch and had flown away to someplace safe to eat it.

This was one of those times that Dick felt almost on par with some of Bruce's observation skills. He replied to Bruce without missing a beat. "And it's not because I feel unsafe here or because I feel like you put me in danger. I'd just like to know how to best possibly defend myself in case something does happen. It's something I've been wanting for a long time, and to be honest, a lot of it has to do with what happened to our parents. Maybe if they had been better able to defend themselves against such things…" Dick broke off, not needing to voice the rest of his thoughts.

Bruce was frowning, watching him closely. "You really don't feel like I've put you in danger by being Batman?"

"No," Dick answered honestly, shaking his in response. "I've lived here for well over a year without anything out of the ordinary even happening. And the one time it did, it was only because the Riddler thought he was solving the riddle of the century." Dick let go of his grip on the edge of the balcony. He took a few steps around the telescope until he was closer to his guardian. "It's something I've wanted to do ever since my parents were killed – further my martial arts training. I just wasn't sure if I would ever get the opportunity what with money being so tight before you took me in. I had no way to pay for classes until recently, and…I do feel bad asking you for too much. I think I'd feel absolutely guilty asking you to pay for self-defense classes. You already give me so much more than-"

"Dick," Bruce said, cutting him off. "I want you to know that you don't ever have to worry about asking me for too much. Whatever it is that you want, you can ask, and if I can, I will do or get it for you. What else am I supposed to do with all of this money? Buy myself things when I really can't want for anything else? Let it sit in the bank and collect more interest than I know what to do with? It makes me feel good to be able to give it to others who may need it or to help others in some way with it. It's why I've opened the Wayne Foundation at all – because I like making others happy in any way I can. Because I like helping out others who aren't as privileged as I am."

Bruce paused for a very long time. He stood up, pushing himself away from the balcony, and taking a few steps closer to Dick until they were merely inches apart. "How many times do I have to say it?" Bruce asked. He reached out for Dick's hands, holding them tightly in his. "You are the most important thing in this world to me," he said, shaking Dick's hands up and down to emphasize each and every word. "Nothing makes me happier now than to make _you_ happy. If you want to take self-defense classes, that's more than okay with me. All you had to do was say the word."

"But that's just it," Dick said. "I don't want to take classes _exactly_." When Bruce gave him a questioning look, Dick explained, "I really want _you_ to teach me."

Bruce didn't say anything in response at first. He simply stared at Dick, blinking. He appeared to be dumbfounded.

"Me?" Bruce asked after he had recovered from his shock.

"Yeah!" Dick exclaimed. "Who better?"

Bruce had finally let go of Dick's hands. He stepped past his young ward, taking a few steps to the opposite side of the balcony. When he reached the railing, he leaned on it, but then looked back over his shoulder to Dick. "I don't know – a professional? I don't pretend to be an expert."

"You took classes, though, didn't you?" Dick asked.

"Yes," Bruce replied, "but that hardly makes me capable of teaching anyone. I'm not really a teacher."

"But you're _good_," Dick emphasized. "You wouldn't be capable of putting all these criminals behind bars if you weren't." He watched Bruce for a very long time, waiting for a response, but still his guardian didn't reply. "I don't want a stranger to teach me. I want you to teach me – the person that I trust most in this world. I want to learn everything you know. Not what someone else could teach me. _You_."

Bruce seemed to be completely taken aback by this and was still trying to gather his thoughts. "I had…no idea you felt that way," Bruce finally said. "In all this time, why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I told you," Dick answered. He took a few steps forward, resting one of his hands on the top of the telescope. "I feel bad asking you for anything. You already give me so much, and…I honestly feel horrible for being so ungrateful to you when I first came here. How could I possibly ask you for _anything_? Like you said, I don't really _need_ anything."

"Needing and wanting are two entirely different things," Bruce said. "Yes, you have everything you could possibly _need_. At least, I hope you do. Things like food, and clothing, and shelter. But there are other things that we don't necessarily need, but things we want because they make us happy or we enjoy them. Like television, for example," Bruce said, gesturing back through the living room to the television set.

"I grew up without one," Bruce continued on. "I don't really _need_ it. I lived my first twenty years without one. But they're a great source for introducing us to new things and for learning things we may not have known. They keep us abreast of any current news that may be happening, rather than having to wait for a newspaper the next day to find out what went on in the world. And well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the movies they play at night."

Dick grinned at this. More than once, he had stayed up late with Bruce, cuddled up in blankets on the couch, watching the Million Dollar Movie. They'd turn the lights out, with only the soft flicker of black and white images on the television to light the room. On the rare cold night in Gotham City, they'd light a fire too, and that was always Dick's favorite thing to accompany the movie. They'd always have cookies and milk, and later on, popcorn. Aunt Harriet always got mad and yelled at Bruce for keeping Dick up so late, but Dick wouldn't trade those times for anything in the world. It wasn't very often that Bruce was disturbed by his various duties so late at night, so it was usually a time when Dick could rest assured that Bruce was his until he fell asleep.

"I never had a television before I came here," Dick told him. "And now…I almost can't imagine _not_ having one. All the time we spend watching it together – it's one of the best times of the day."

"It is, isn't it?" Bruce agreed. He paused for a moment before going on. "But that's what I mean. We don't need it, but it's good to do things sometimes that we enjoy anyway. As long as they're not hurting us or others, it's good to allow ourselves little things like that that bring us happiness and bring us closer together. If there's anything at all like that that you want, _please_ Dick, let me know, and I would be more than happy to give it to you."

Dick was now running his fingers up and down the smooth, polished white metal of his new telescope in contentment. "Right now, there's honestly nothing else I can think of that I could possibly want. Except to learn how to defend myself better." He gave Bruce a very long and hard look. After a lengthy silence, Dick swallowed and asked, "Will you teach me?"

Bruce took a deep breath, licking his lips and rubbing them together. He took a moment to scan his gaze over the grounds again. He noticed that the robin was back in virtually the same spot, perhaps searching for a small dessert item after a nice lunch.

After what seemed like forever, Bruce finally nodded. "All right," he said, turning to look at Dick. "If you really want me to."

"I do," Dick insisted, "I do, I do. More than anything. Well…" he added, and then broke off. He suddenly leaned over to look through his telescope. "And this too."

"You got it," Bruce said, laying a hand on Dick's shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Bruce and Dick spent nearly an hour with the telescope, finding as many different birds in the yard and trying to identify them. Then they'd try to make special note of their song and try and commit them to memory. Dick was having such a wonderful time, and he couldn't imagine his birthday possibly getting any better. Nothing could possibly burst the cloud he was currently riding on…but then it happened.

The Batphone must have rung, even though neither one of them had heard it. They were much too consumer in their birdwatching to notice such things. But then suddenly, Alfred had joined them and leaned in to whisper, "It's the Batphone, sir."

Bruce immediately glanced over at Dick. When he turned back to Alfred, he opened his mouth, then shut it again. His glance furtively went back to Dick again.

"Go," Dick said immediately, and the word didn't come out sounding hurt or bitter like he had almost been afraid it would. "Someone else might need you the way I did," he added around an understanding smile. "Besides, it's been a great birthday so far, and…I couldn't possibly want for more. It's okay."

Bruce stared at him, and his expression was a mixture of relief and pride. He immediately stepped across the balcony to Dick, engulfing his ward in the biggest and tightest embrace he could.

"Thank you. And happy birthday," Bruce whispered, pressing his lips against the top of Dick's head. "I'll be back as soon as I possibly can."

Dick hugged him back, a grin overwhelming his own face. "Don't worry. And thank _you_ for everything." He pulled back a bit, looking up at Bruce. "It's been the best birthday I can remember having."

Bruce ran his hand over Dick's hair, smoothing it where it had been mussed by his shirt. "You're welcome. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you so happy." He dropped his hand to Dick's chin, directing his young ward's eyes back up towards him. "I'm sorry I have to leave, but I'm thrilled we were able to spend this time together."

"Me too."

Without another word, Bruce released his hold on him, bounding down the steps into the living room. When he was out of sight, Dick didn't move from his spot, but stood staring after him.

"Are you all right, Master Dick?" Alfred asked, causing Dick to jump. Between his words with Bruce and his subsequent reverie, Dick had almost forgotten that the butler was still there.

Dick smiled, letting out a brief sigh. "Yeah. I'm okay."

And he was.

* * *

Later that night, Dick was sound asleep in bed. He was dreaming about perfect birthday parties and endless nights spent with Bruce around his telescope. Somewhere, from some very far off place, he thought he heard a faint squeaking noise. This roused him from his slumber, and he stirred, turning over onto his back.

"Bruce?" he asked into the darkness, the faint light coming through the crack in his door almost blinding him.

"Yeah," Bruce whispered. "I just wanted to let you know I'm home, but I don't want to keep you up. I'll let you get back to sleep now."

"No," Dick said. Suddenly, he felt wide away, springing up into a sitting position. If it had been light enough in his room, Bruce would have seen him grinning from ear to ear. "Are you kidding? I've been waiting for this all night. I wanted to show you what Alfred got me."

Bruce made his way into the room, taking a moment to turn on Dick's bedside lamp. The room was flooded with warm golden light, causing Dick to flinch slightly away from it. A moment later, Bruce had taken a seat on the edge of Dick's bed.

"I believe I already know," Bruce said, "but tell me anyway."

"I figured you did," Dick said. He reached out to his bedside table, retrieving the book that he had set there earlier in the night. "He got me the entire series of Sherlock Holmes books. I started reading _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ and I can't put it down. He said he thought it would be appropriate now that I know your secret. We are kind of like Holmes and Doctor Watson, aren't we?"

Bruce hummed in agreement. "He started talking about getting that for you after you found out about Batman, and even more so since you've been helping me. He thought you might be able to take away something from Holmes techniques."

"Speaking of which," Dick said, "are you okay? What happened? Who was it? Did you catch them?"

Bruce simply stared at him for a moment cautiously.

"I just like knowing what you do when you're not here," Dick explained. "That's all. You know that. And you also know how concerned I get when you are being Batman. I like to know that you're being safe."

"I know," Bruce replied, "and I am being safe. As safe as I know how to be."

Dick nodded before he asked, "So who is it this time?"

After a long and heavy sigh, Bruce said, "The Joker. I investigated a few things, but no. I'm no closer to finding him or what he's ultimately up to than I was when I left here."

Dick sat up straighter in bed, like he was ready to leap out of it and go running down the hall. "Can I help?" The question was out of his mouth before he could even quite register what he was saying.

Bruce stiffened, fidgeting around in his seat. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. It was Dick's excitement that was unnerving him more than anything. "Aunt Harriet would kill me if she knew I kept getting you involved in all of this, and Alfred didn't exactly help by buying you Sherlock Holmes books."

"Getting involved in what?" Dick quietly cut him off. "It's a far cry from getting involved in the actual crime fighting. I'm not putting myself in a position where I'm going to be around any of these criminals. I'm just trying to help you get to the answer faster." He paused for a very long time before he brazenly said, "And you know I'm good at it."

Bruce failed to hide the smile that threatened to capture his lips. "You're brilliant, okay? It's odd. If it hadn't been for you, I may never have cracked the Riddler's clue about metal work. I still might be on a wild goose chase with him. Of course, the entire point of that was so he could kidnap you to lure me into giving away my identity, but…"

"So I saved my own life is what you're saying," Dick said around a snicker.

Bruce was on the verge of laughing, but he was able to contain it. "Yeah," he simply replied, rubbing a hand over his lips. His expression began to turn serious again, at which point he asked Dick, "Are you okay? With everything that's happened, I mean? I know it was really hard for you afterwards and…" Bruce trailed off, unable or perhaps unwilling to voice the rest of his thoughts.

"I am," Dick answered honestly. "I was sound asleep before you woke me. I was having good dreams about today. Nothing at all like the nightmares I was having. In fact, the last one I had was a good four or five days ago. I was having them every night right after it happened, so it's better."

"Good," Bruce said. "I hated knowing how much this was affecting you. It's made me feel so damn guilty for getting you involved in this world at all." Bruce's voice was bordering on anger, something that Dick didn't hear from him very often.

"Which is one of the reasons why I want you to train me," Dick pointed out. "I think it'll help me to feel a lot more at ease once I learn a little bit more about how to defend myself."

"And I said I would train you," Bruce said, nodding, "and I will. If that can help to ease your mind and help you to relax a little bit, I'll be glad to do it. I just want to do anything at all that might make you feel more comfortable with all of this."

"Bruce," Dick said, "you know, it really wasn't you." He inched a bit closer to Bruce on the mattress. "I hate that you feel guilty, because it's hardly your fault that the Riddler sees a challenge in finding out the secret identity of Batman. Really, this would have happened whether I had found out or not."

"I suppose I'm glad that you did find out when you did then," Bruce said. "I can only imagine your reaction to finding out if the Riddler simply blurted it out in front of you."

"Maybe I should have appeared to be a bit more stunned when he did," Dick mused. "As it was, I only stood there like it was another day in the life of being the ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne."

"You did nothing wrong," Bruce immediately corrected. "Do you hear me? Nothing." He reached a hand across the small distance between them to lay it on one of Dick's in comfort. "I don't ever want you to think that it's your responsibility to try and protect me or my identity. That goes against the very reason I ever wanted to become Batman in the first place. This is my responsibility. Not yours. It never was and it never will be. Understood?"

Dick considered this, but then he eventually nodded. He looked down at his bright red comforter, running his thumb across its soft and fuzzy fleece surface. "I guess that I just feel protective of you. Like any boy would be with his father figure. It makes me want to…do as much as I can to help you."

After a long pause, Bruce said, "I appreciate that. I do. But I don't ever want you to feel like this is, in any way, your battle to fight. It's mine and mine alone."

"I know," Dick said. "But…just in the same way I would want to help my father if he had been in this position, I want to help you. I want to do everything I can to maybe make this a little bit easier on you and to help you get closer to catching the Joker, or the Riddler, or Mister Freeze, or whichever one of your archenemies happens to rear their ugly head this week."

"Dick," Bruce said sternly. He lifted his hand up from Dick's and placed it on the boy's shoulder instead, gripping it firmly. "We've talked about this. I told you, this is something that I never want you to become involved in. Ever. I was _sick_ when I thought that something had happened to you, when I thought that I might never see you again. I could barely even function. The only thought that kept me going was that I had to do it for you. I wouldn't be able to handle it if I knew you were out there risking your life. I just wouldn't."

A long moment of silence fell between them during which Dick thought about this. "I suppose," Dick said, "that when you put it that way, I really can't argue with you. I respect you, and I'll respect your wishes. But…that's not really the kind of help I was referring to. I just want to continue to be included in what you do in some small way. I promise I won't ever go running after criminals by myself, but can I keep helping you with the investigation side of things a little bit?"

Bruce tilted his head back and forth in consideration. After a while, he asked, "You're never going to _not_ want to do this now, are you?"

"Nope."

Bruce took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He nodded once, twice, three times. He pursed his lips before he replied, "All right. I suppose that's a fair trade-off. As long as I have your word that you stay as far away from the actual crime fighting as possible, then I suppose you can keep helping me a bit with the detective work. In fact, I daresay that I'd love to have an extra pair of eyes to go over some of this stuff. Especially where the Riddler and the Joker are concerned. The Riddler has a psychological compulsion to leave clues behind wherever he goes, but sometimes I wonder if the Joker isn't very far behind. He leaves the most bizarre things sometimes too."

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and pinched this bridge of his nose in between his thumb and index finger. It gave him a headache to think about even trying to decode some of the insane clues that the Joker had left for him this time.

"You're really good at that," Bruce admitted around a small laugh, "at some of these ridiculous riddles for some strange reason."

Dick grinned. "That would be my mother's doing. She used to buy all these riddle and joke books, and she would go through each day and pick out a couple to ask me." Dick broke off and shrugged. "It just sort of helps you to think about things in a different way when they're posed in riddle form, and you pick up on certain nuances that you typically don't find in everyday language."

"So I'm not just stupid when I sit and stare at some of these riddles for the longest time," Bruce observed. "I just haven't had the proper training in riddles. Check."

Dick opened his mouth to say something, but then he apparently thought better of it and closed it with a _snap_.

"What?" Bruce asked.

Dick shook his head and snickered. Then he changed the subject by asking, "Are you going back to the Batcave now?"

"I was," Bruce said. "The clues the Joker left me are driving me absolutely mad. I couldn't possibly sleep now if I wanted to."

"Can I come?"

"It's after one in the morning. Aunt Harriet would kill me."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Dick reminded him. "Besides, I've already been asleep for several hours."

Bruce considered this for some time. He ran a hand over his eyes and looked back and forth between Dick and the little clock that sat atop his bedside table. "Whatever you do," Bruce said, "you can't tell Aunt Harriet that I let you stay up so late. She'd be fit to be tied."

"I won't tell her I helped you in the Batcave all night," Dick teased. "Roger."

"You know what I mean," Bruce said, his voice returning to its slightly firm tone. "If she knew what you've already been through as a result of my secret identity, she'd probably take you out of my care immediately and never let you see me again."

"I don't think so," Dick disagreed. "Oh, she'd be angrier than a hornets' nest at you, but I rather doubt she'd take me away from you. Don't forget, you've given her a much better place to live than she had before too. She'd probably just yell at you for a very long time."

"Right," Bruce sighed, massaging at the back of his neck with one hand. "Thanks."

Dick, however, was still watching him impatiently. "Well?" he asked after what seemed like forever. "Can I come? I won't be able to sleep either knowing that you're pulling your hair out over something I may be able to help you with in a few minutes. And I promise, Aunt Harriet won't ever find out from me what you – or we – have been doing."

Bruce momentarily closed his eyes before nodding. "All right. I said you could help, and it wouldn't be very fair of me to tell you no now." He paused, and it never occurred to him that his next words might be something that he would be saying to his young ward more and more as time went on. In fact, when it was all said and done, he would end up telling Dick those same words hundreds upon hundreds of times.

"To the Batcave."

_The end_


End file.
